There are three thousand thoughts in my heart, who lives within them?

If online matters are like the wind, who is the dust? Flowers bloom and wither on the fingertips several times, and wandering emotions lie between spring and autumn. Many times, between the eager anticipation and turning toward distant horizons, one suddenly realizes that online matters are like the wind.\Counting the traces of ink on paper, arranged in varying depths, time is melancholic, aging an innocent heart. Warmth of yesterday still sings in the ear, today is already the lonely sigh after the flourishing flowers. A ground full of desolation, whose teardrops stain the sorrow of April?\In the vast online world, what can the heart ferry? The tide rises and falls, merely a cycle of coming and going. Watching the clouds roll and unroll, indifferent to the wind passing without a trace, accustomed to being alone. No worries, no overthinking, lingering over words in every way, achieving the gradual strengthening of the heart. Maturity, in a corner of the internet. Silently guarding, the original belief.\A faint smile at the corner of the mouth. In the end, let go of these things. If online matters are like the wind, I am the dust.||\———————\Three thousand thoughts, who dwells within them? Gradually the frost thickens, the heart is like cold autumn.\Winding journeys always pause in the hurry. Unconsciously, looking back, already beyond spring and autumn. That year the maple was red and passion burned, at that time both man and moon were full.\The ends of the earth are vast, where is near? Locking a note of chilly wind, thinning the waiting of time. At the ferry of fate, old promises stranded. Who still says, this life is long-lasting?\Going further and further, ultimately the gaze is distant. That strand of warmth at the fingertips gradually cools. If the heart holds no thoughts, what else can haunt dreams?\Tidying up emotions, mending the vicissitudes. When the dust settles, quietly silent. No longer asking if love is deep or fate shallow, no longer waiting if the lights are still flickering. Stirring the remnants of last night, hearing sighs in the ear.\Three thousand thoughts, just a thought apart. Three thousand hearts only capture fleeting warmth in passing shadows. So let it go, letting these powerless thoughts slip from the fingertips, gently holding the moon, lightly reflecting on the past.||\———————\Life's joys and sorrows, why mind sun or rain? Light a glass lamp, listen to a moment of silence. Watch the wind pass the treetops, letting emotions flow.\Slight exposure, deep pain in the heart. Tears slip from the fingertips, impossible to catch.\Once promised flowers to burn the soul, once vowed not to leave nor betray. Yet ultimately abandoned the past, laughed at the seriousness, tidied up the beliefs.\Better to meet with paper and ink. The long three thousand online matters, henceforth all buried within. Why suffer the silent tears, seeing the red mark in the palm, locking countless thoughts in the brows?\Picking up an old incident, placing it in a corner with no one. And look at the rose in the corner, a wisp of sunlight, a drop of dew, in the wind, neither humble nor voiceless, gently.\Sometimes sunny, sometimes cloudy.If this is already a destined fate, then let it come, watch through the cloudy and clear days, and wait for a time of complete clarity.