Ending Point

It really doesn’t matter how far you may go in a day, whether ten, hundred, or thousands of miles, because the place you fall is the place where everything ends. For life is drifting water in a cycle of four seasons, whether you possess more compared to others or you don’t have a thing, why not just move along with the water carrying a worn-out knapsack on your back that is slightly arched from burdens you have carried all along. No matter how high you may fly, some day, you must fold your abused wings and sit on a treetop to watch your own gruesome shadow becoming a lonely tombstone. Oh, I came a long way and am exhausted; why not lie here without thinking any thing anymore and fall asleep.