A ray of light comes from a collection of poems.In a city where feelings are scarce, let the heart break through the doors and windows of the years. At that time, the true feelings needed not to be read, but to be comprehended. So, on the days when my breath turned into ice, I began to record and sort out the saint on the snowy land——Cangyang Gyatso.This man bloomed like a lotus flower in the history of Tibet.He used his life to turn into a spiritual light that penetrated the world, slid through the silent and long mountains, passed through the gap of time, attached like flowing water, and fit into my blood and his bones.Open your lips and teeth, and recite the name silently: Cangyang Gyatso, the king of incomparable talent in the snowy land.

In the distance, sacred chanting came, embellished with the morning light of red vermilion and broken gold, the mist filled my closed eyes and folded hands, the prayer wheel was touched carefully, and turned old-fashionedly.I look up at the prayer flags blown by the wind, dancing gracefully.With one heart, trek to the highest snow mountain.The mud with the temperature at that time was still kissed by my dry lips. Above the sky, a goshawk screamed through the sky, and quickly smashed to the ground.It seems that something has been turned and moved for the first time.I think that is time.Prosperous for a while, disappearing for a while, rushing for a while, slow for a while, but time is always moving forward.And those that bloom in time, poetry and light.

The so-called light is the beauty when it blooms, like the sweet smile of a child.If the dimension of light emitted is not appropriate, it will turn into thorns all over the body of adolescent children.That is a sharp weapon, which hurts others as well as oneself. Radiating light is actually extremely cruel.In order to have a dazzling light that is different from others in the entire ethnic group, it is necessary to constantly compete with the world, and to win is to absorb the light of the world.If it is not tenacious enough, it will be transformed into energy that destroys itself, like a black hole in the universe, devouring its own life.

In the era of Tsangyang Gyatso, the political turmoil was turbulent, and various internal and external contradictions began to emerge one after another.This quiet Tibet looks like a lake at first glance, but at the bottom of the water, there are all kinds of roaring resentments. Walking in such a chaotic and anxious situation, his stubbornness and talent made him unwilling to restrain his edge.With his unrestrained body as a spear and his astonishing talent, he awakened the long and silent sleep of the snow mountain. When the melancholy wind is gone, we will be together for a while and leave for a while.

Worried and quietly sick, tossing and turning without sleepless nights. I squinted my eyes, mumbling these beautiful words quietly, thinking about his thoughts.Who is he?Is it the rigorous guardian of the Potala Palace, or the son and brother who is full of red sleeves and leans on the horse leaning bridge?I don't know what he was thinking when he was playing two roles.Only these words have pierced through the wind and smoke of dynasties, traveled to the present day, still echoed under the blue sky, existed on the edge of history, and competed with time. When the sun was about to set, I closed the scroll.The player jumps to "The Believer", which is Zhu Zheqin's babbling humming:

On that day, I closed my eyes in the fragrant mist of the scripture hall, and suddenly heard the mantra in the scriptures you recited; In that month, I shook all the prayer wheels, not for extension, just to touch your fingertips; That year, I kowtowed and prostrated on the mountain road, not to see you, but to hug your warmth; In that life, I turned mountains and rivers and pagodas, not for the purpose of cultivating the next life, but just to meet you on the way. This is a song written by He Xuntian to Tsangyang Gyatso, singing ancient plots and worshiping him. The Sanskrit sound caves into the sky, breaking through the old door of time.Let that light shine through my heart.

Sitting upright in the Potala Palace, he is the biggest king in the snowy land.Wandering in the alleys, he is the most beautiful lover in the world. Isn't Buddha and scriptures what he wants?In those days when he sat in the temple and was worshiped by everyone, what he missed was the fragrance of gentle women and the singing of wind and horses.These moments are the immortality he wants.When coming and going, it is always non-stop, with a warm light.