THE PHILOSOPHICAL SHADOW OF ASTRAGALUS

Why are you moved by trifles in your around.

Just look up at the sky.

The clouds moving slowly.

The Astragalus blooming in the field.

She made the sky as her curtain.

And then, she dancing under the curtain.

The wind as she’s direction.

And never changed easily.

Even if the wild wind is coming.

But she as always so.

Where is your directions?

Is it go ahead like the clouds?

Or unsteadiness like the dream?

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