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The scorching heat from the mortal purgatory melts and evaporates your crystal existence.


The dirt and filth from bystanders’ tongues crush your delicate core.


The muddy palms of lust and greed attempt to tarnish your irreversible innocence.


Well, you, the pure heart, may disappear into silence, or become mangled with dusts and ashes, but you may also be able to embrace the heat and force, transforming yourself into melting tears, to wash off part of the corrupted darkness in its own attack.


Don’t be sorrowful, the pure heart.


You are precious. Even if you can’t last for a thousand years, the wind from the howling valley remembers you, the stream from the snow-white mountaintop remembers you, even the vicious darkened palms cannot deny your existence.


Help the pure heart survive this world.


Be the pure heart to soothe the weary souls.


(2 September 2021)


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