Words of the wind is a cry tears are a language

Call of the wind is silent. It is across, is looking forward to, is a long missing. How much pain, how many sad, helpless, unable to escape, not frozen, unable to leave. Always feel drifting in waiting, on the way home; the exhortation of the snowfall has been pursuing rain dance, flower grass grows silent death, endless air; do dream dash quiet, melodious and sweet. A call was a cry; a junction, is a matter of choice; a smile, is a cool.

Words of the wind is a cry. Tears are a language, an expression, a poignant feelings. It is, from the heart, from the touch, from silent feelings; it, know how bitter, more pain, more helpless; it, through time and space, through thoughts, through everything. A song, a love, a word of greeting, leads people to tears, it's kind of sad, kind of moving, a feeling. Tears, purified water, warm spring, beautiful song, eyes clear, let your heart more pure clear, more distant love, make the world brighter!

Wind is a mind at ease. Frankly, is a kind of attitude, is a kind of temperament, is a force. Many in my life but you cannot select only facing, like the four seasons through complex irreversible; many emotions in the mind without explanation only exile time, like the Pearl shells in the sand, washed many times to show the light; not many in the life care, not to deliberately only calm down, just like a fish in the sea, carried by kicking up spray. Frankly, is easy, is simple, is wise.