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Life is a flowing feast. Its splendor must eventually fade, but somewhere else, the music will rise again, and the feast will continue, as splendid as ever. Life is a beautiful burst of fireworks. Its brilliance must eventually fall away, but in another sky, the light will shine again, and the fireworks will continue, as brilliant as ever. Life is a brief journey. However much we wish to linger, we must eventually leave, but amid another landscape, the road will stretch onward, and the journey will continue, with just as much to cherish. Even so, along this long, winding road, I want to leave a few traces to commemorate my story, my life.
I once heard a story about a little boy who always gazed into the distance at a house beneath the setting sun. The house gleamed with sunlight, and he kept dreaming of going to see it one day. So one day, he crossed mountain after mountain and traveled a long, long road until he finally arrived. He saw a little girl gazing into the distance, and she said to him, "Look! How beautiful that house is!" He looked in the direction she pointed, only to discover that it was his own home...
In the age I live in, so many things fall short of my hopes. I prefer bygone eras and believe they were the true "golden ages." Yet who knows? The people of those times might have found their own age just as dull and tedious, dreaming of the eras before theirs and believing those were the true "golden ages." We are always looking up to others, never realizing that someone, somewhere, is looking up to us. People in the future, then, will also regard the age we live in now as a true "golden