Time flows like a river, marking its steady and unceasing pace through the seasons, through every sunny and cloudy day. Looking back, the past feels like a shifting kaleidoscope, unexpectedly forming patterns that can never be replicated; every reunion, parting, joy, and sorrow becomes an irreplaceable memory. I have come to realize that youth is like a one-way train, with no possibility of return and no stations to stop at along the way.
The ringing of morning bells and the beating of evening drums urge me to set sail, yet my heart remains like a leaf clinging to its branch, lingering in the winds of yesterday, unable to let go. I know I must not delay my journey, yet I struggle to break free from emotional ties and fail to seal my past memories away. As days and nights pass, I feel as though I am standing in a clear river—this river being my life, a gift given to me only once. Yet, I often stand still, letting the upstream flow pass me by, allowing the present to become the past, only to lose today and tomorrow by obsessing over yesterday, ultimately left with nothing.
I often wonder: when the spring blossoms and autumn fruits have all become history, and I sit amidst my memories with silver hair, recounting the stories etched upon my face, what will my state of mind be? I thought I would become wise and less easily deceived, yet I still fall for illusions; I thought I would appreciate spring more after enduring winter, yet I still yearn for the warmth of fairy tales. The path traveled seems to be a circle; after a long trek, one often finds themselves back at the start, constantly repeating the same quest: seeking purpose.
Through much contemplation, I have finally understood that the cycle of nature—the withering and blooming of grass—is a profound lesson: flowers bloom once, and grass stays green for a season. As time flows on like water, the past vanishes like smoke, so why dwell on it with sorrow? The train of youth carries countless passengers; no one can predict the encounters along the way, and no one can return to the starting point. Since there is no choice, let me crush my past regrets and joys upon the tracks of time. I will open the window, bathe in the fresh air and sunlight, and embrace a new journey. For I know now that youth is a one-way train, with no return and no stations to stop at.
