The task given by the teacher dispersed my mood of laziness, which, in some way, is embedded in my nature. So, I have to write, and more importantly, to think. It has been a long time since I picked up my pen to write and to think with numerous stars blinking their eyes at me. Writing, long ago, was by no means a hard thing for me since I once enjoyed it so much that even my dream, my feelings and my life can only be realized by the ink flowed out from my pen at that time. Those writing days are moving, exciting and glorious part of my life.
That fantastic time began with my sentimental love for a girl in high school. That girl lifted the strobe of my feelings which flowed out from my pen, so clear and clean, that even many years later I still could recall my first poem without a pause, like watching an old movie, real though vague.
The love has been washed away by the river of time, but the feelings, is still there the moment I read this poem. I still can feel the innocent love of that boy, which sometimes console my heart and my soul, and encourage me to purify my feelings when I got hurt. If you have the experience of watching an old movie that once moved your tears out and still could touch you many years later, you will understand my feelings.
When I watched the shining stars in the dark sky, the idea comes to me that each of us once was born so pure, just like that star, shining out the innocent hope for the world. However, we grew up and matured with the day replaced by the night, the sun giving way to the moon. We came to know that besides the word “joy” there is also one called “sad”. We were struggling to stay the warmth of the sun, to evade the coldness of the night, only to find out inability and insignificance before this world. The spring never stays longer and the winter never comes later. We, finally, find that we are deserted on a place called earth, lonely and hopelessly. Have you ever thought why a child is afraid of darkness and why a man in agony always murmur a word “Mum”? We are weak, not strong in nature. We feel cold and afraid in this planet, and so we turn our telescope into the space, not only to search out, but also to search in.
We are born with many dreams and hopes, which, however, in some way are too heavy for us to continue our journey. We, therefor, have to abandon many, carry few. Nevertheless, even these few are not easy for us to realize. Some will succeed, but most will fail. Paradoxically, the joy brought by the success for which we are willing to sacrifice a lot is always ephemeral. We sacrifice a lot, but get a little. More often we will find the things we give up are more important than the goal we pursue. Is a meeting more important than the birthday of your wife, or a contract more emergent than your mother’s longing heart? To live a sober and full life, these things are worth our thinking.
Thank God, once again I can sit down to write and, more importantly, to think. I guess what I am writing here is neither an academic essay nor a research paper which may be preferred by my professor. However, since I have to write, I want write something valuable, if not valuable, at least real. Maybe I do not know the world, but I do know my heart. I know if I can choose, I would rather be an eagle circling lonely in the sky than to be a sparrow flying aimlessly in the crowd.
