Some years have finally come to an end.

  The chrysanthemums remain submerged in the water, their daytime fervor cooled. Floating on the green water like lotus pedestals, their blossoms seem to reflect their initial resolute determination. A gentle touch, yet the cold hue prompts a resolute release; some thoughts finally dissipate. The wind passes, scattering a dream, as serene as a landscape, immersed in ink-like darkness. Some clamor will eventually cool, like this gentle breeze ruffling a pool of clear water, the ripples gradually fading. In the wind, feel the chill of the dream, like water disappearing into water—a gentle yet hidden presence.

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