The chaotic kingdom, bright white clouds hang low; the dangerous and misty ocean, hitting the “iron ship” on the coast.

In the beginning, dust had no name,
It was more like a seed of life;
Accepting the arrangement of fate, following the direction of the wind,
Drifting all the way…
When the wind stopped, it rested its tired body;
When the wind rose, it continued to mix with other dust.

(The dust did not know where it came from or where it was going; it wanted to break free from the control of the heavens, but had to rely on them to find a stable foothold.)

Involuntarily, deep like duckweed.

In the middle of crossing the desert;
Tired, docked, looking forward to the next wind.
Flying across the sky, fortunate to see the clouds at the horizon;
Sleeping in her embrace.
Occasionally, encountering a persistent gale,
Wondering about its true mission.

(Staying in the desert, desolate everywhere, dust fearing to be one of them; while the embrace of clouds, feeling so warm and passionate.)

The road is long and far.

Dust firmly believed,
That one day it would become a real seed.
Carrying life, descending –
After undergoing all the necessary baptism and test:
Successfully falling into “hell”,
Plunging into the sea of life.

1-1