一颗颗晶莹剔透的雨珠从黛色的瓦檐上滑落。我伸手去迎,顿觉蒙蒙的碎玉般的水雾,似从历史的那一端弥散至今,柔柔地使灵魂舒展,又紧紧地攥住我那渺小的心,以自然的伟力、铿锵的击节之音,一下一下撞击着我的骨节。一脉脉流光汇着雨水在班驳纵横的掌纹间滑过,填补细密的沟壑,手掌上的皮肤轻轻地吮吸着光与水,带着历史的沧桑,又浅浅地再深深地植入我的灵魂。这是任何严谨的逻辑都不能想象的自然的神力。目然而然想起了庄周,那位逍遥自在的男子。“蝶乎?庄子乎?”一次次与自然的对问,浸润了 Crystal clear raindrops fall from the Dai color tile eaves. I reached out to meet, and I felt like a shattered water mist that seemed to diffuse from the end of history to the present, softening the soul softly, holding my tiny heart tightly, and clamoring with my natural force The staccato, about what hit my joints. A pulse of light gathers the rain across the palm of the hand across the palms, filling the fine gully, the skin on the palm gently sucking the light and water, with the vicissitudes of history, but also shallow and deeply implanted My soul. This is the natural divine power that any serious logic can not imagine. However, sometimes think of Chuang Zhou, the man at ease. “Butterflies? Chuang-tzu?” Time and again the natural question, infiltrated