In Serenity, Searching for Brightness

In serenity, I wrap up myself comfortably, like warm blanket. All the seasons, all the days, all tranquil, one mirrors another, as viscous water without as much as a ripple. Yet, without the tumultuous age, where is the revitalisation, the filling of vessel with rushing river of life? Dead calm without a vicious emotion, even vicissitudes are unfounded. There is a cry for brightness in the oasis of emptiness. A shooting star flashing across the night sky, even for a moment, etches deep in memory.