No sun shines in this land
There is no hand of guidance
No lighthouse or flashlight to show you the way
There is only a small red heart in hand
whose beating is inaudible from the crashing waters of pouring rain.
When I extend my hands with the beating red bud, the roots of the trees around me light up like a flood.
I can see so many fallen trees in my land
I don’t remember the sound from them falling
but I can hear their clutter
I seal the treasure back in my chest
the sound from the fallen recedes
Tomorrow, again, I will try to find my way through the trees
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