晨光唤醒了公园，
衣角与微风漫舞。
露珠停驻草尖，                                                                                                                                                                                              
等待春泥的吻。
老人运转太极，
把风绕得轻柔。
                                                                                              
追风的人，汗如雨落，                                                                                                                                                                                    倒影被疾行的脚步搅碎，渐成齑粉；
徐行的人，语笑轻盈，                                                                                                                                                                                    
倒影在波心随涟漪轻晃，依旧完整。

 
生命自有它的韵律：
唯慢板的心跳，才能与世间合拍——
看光斑在叶尖踱步，
听深潭从石缝间漫出  ——                                                                                                                                                                               
沉缓的呼音。                                                                                                                                                                                                 
而茶人静候叶片舒展，                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         将时光沉淀为掌心一抹温润的碧色。
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                                                                                                     我们追着时代的卷风奔跑，
为每一根标杆绷直了脊背，                                                                                                                                                                             
任汗雨浸透衣襟，
额头析出盐霜。                                                                                                                                                                                              风霜未尽 ，暮色已沉，又伏桌前，                                                                                                                                                                                   却仿佛被扶上了轮椅——
将视线，在屏前熬成失焦的雾，  
直至思绪，如灯花般黯黯瘦损……                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
 
即便被卷入风中，
当汗滴坠入泥土、                                                                                                                                                                                          当喘息逐渐平缓，                                                                                                                                                                                          
当视线在模糊之前——
请细听心脏沉静的低语。

如能与自然同频，
终将寻回那——
被风揉皱却依旧绵延的，
和谐脉动。
 
徐行如语：
应将生命的弦，
调成一曲随清风漫步、伴柳枝轻吟的旋音。