Turning hands into rain and flowers

The wind blows from the dark, from the heart, from the mind.

The wind blows from the green fields, from the wilderness, and from the deep forest.

The wind comes with cool colors, warm colors, and erotic colors.

The wind comes with hope, with destruction, with color.

You come, nourishing like rain;

Here you come, fresh as dew;

Here you are, faint as fog.

As mysterious as you, how would you know that I yearn for your grace and favor at the bottom of the cliff?

After all, you and I are taking different paths.

And the changes you brought to me can only be annihilated in the vast time tunnel, in the rapid wind in the abyss, instantly dilapidated and flying to zero...

But how?If it weren't for you, I would also be doomed to die by my own hands, so this doesn't make a big difference—it just makes my pale life a little more possible for fantasy.