月，冷冷的在青穆的窗前飘来飘去，闪着冰冰凉的眸光。一次次地敲打着我的心窗，瑟瑟的躯体，以同样的冰冷，体会这哗啦啦地坠，一片又一片，一地的纷纷碎碎。
接了母亲的电话,心和着窗外的海，潮起又潮落一直向他乡一点点地飘去。月缺月圆摇着钟的翅，许许多多经年的记忆擦肩而过，许久仿佛又很短暂，缓缓地穿着一件件背影离去，去向未知，如雾。
望风雨飘摇，一弯冷月，怕孤寒，揽几片灰云遮影。
月光渐渐朦胧，霜露渐浓，月拂袖熄了灯，留世间一片沉寂。
我独斟寂廖，一饮而尽。仰首泪纷纷，盛一捧秋凉。
答应了朋友要给博客写新文章。但栖在额头的闲适不知不觉中已飞走，寻不到影。只闻见沉郁的滋味渐浓，飞在岔路口盘旋，意悠悠，缘来缘去匆匆。现在，只有拿起专业书读下去，读到累了倦了，读到黎明的晨光开始上升，读到昨夜的痛陷入了忘却。
飘洋过海的对岸，母亲的依恋,盼念和希望，系在那一片白帆。
她不知道帆的destiny注定是漂泊。。。。。。
'7年之后，我要去中国西部，'心里默默地想。
那一年的夏天，西部的孤山里添了异国的气息，卷了默默的白色，洒落学堂的窗台。几个为中国教育义务耕耘的英国人，慈爱的笑颜，飘过西北的土地，温暖了一个个微颤的梦，漾过一双双充满希望的眼眸。只是那一个瞬间，我长长久久地触动，深深地渗入经脉，连带着心肺在风中发抖，被这光辉的生命。那瞬间的震憾，那些重生的观念，已刻在心里，和着7年后的
The calling from mother and heart a long time echoes in the sea upon the tide’s ebb and flow, rising and falling, and saddle away on the surges mile after mile, into the distance. The moon's waxing – waning with the pendulous wings of clock; Here memories enter with old age, and pass by; Turning, they leave, putting on each and each one’s sight of their backs away, veined in a wandering direction, vague as fog. I promised friends to precede some articles to my Blog. Then the laziness perched in the head had imperceptibly gone off — there was no trace after it. Just a smell of the creeping depression revolves and flows down.
Sipping alone that delight of loneliness, I lift the solitude to my mouth and drink up. My head Lifts up and my tears fall down, carrying a palm of autumn chill.
Now, better go down upon my academic books, reading on when I grow weary, when a climbing gleam spread of dawn begins, and when griefs of yesterday infuse the forgetfulness.
At the anchor across the sea, mom ties her concerns, expectations and hope of that white sail, as a ship will.
She doesn’t know the destiny of her sail is doomed to drift…
‘I would set myself in next destination to Western China in 7 years’
I murmured to myself in the heart’s core.
Back in that afternoon, the solitude of Western China adds an exotic aura, flaring the silent white, scattering the windowsill of classes Some British volunteers provide education provision for the kids, for the people in that remote region of my country. I was strongly and truly moved in spirit and emotion, piercing every vein, mingling with my heart-liver; and shivering when the wind blows through. I was moved in these lives of the glory.
That trembling of the great moment upon those reborn ideas has been dwelling and engraving upon the heart, on that afternoon packed in a hope, not yet a plan- in about 7 years. I determined my path in life for that hope and for all.
I know the barrier to my roots, leaving reality behind my real life, in a big way….
Hope, not yet a plan
我明白我根底的‘障’，我终不明白务实为何物。。。。。。
A cold Moon sways, upon the window of blue-deepened smoke, glittering ice-pale glances. The shivering limbs lean into the cold, the moonlight constantly hammers the window of my heart in loud sounds of droppings when crumbled in pieces, one fallen upon fallen over the shattered brimming ground
