Wuxing Category: Earth (土)
3-xx
The mountain peaks hold fast their crowns of white,
While spring’s first breath begins to part the ice.
The lake reflects a sky of thinning glass,
And plum tree blossoms drift across the stone.
A wooden easel stands within the yard,
Where bold acrylics meet the morning light.
A fountain hums beneath a heavy sphere,
That turns in silence on a silver film.
The children's laughter echoes near the gate,
While weightless motion marks the passing hours.
I watch you turn, a moment caught in breath,
Before the shutter clicks and holds you fast.
The storm may gather on the jagged heights,
But here the garden keeps the winter’s chill at bay.
You are the heat that thaws my frozen core,
The steady hand that paints the world in gold,
A balance found within your quiet gaze.
The camera lens records the turning head,
A frame of movement stilled by silver light.
Petals swirl like snow in gentle air,
To rest upon the grass and palette’s edge.
The bees are drawn to blossoms pink and pale,
While water burbles through the granite throat.
A canvas waits for colors yet to come,
Beneath the shadow of the brooding peaks.
You are the center where my spirit rests,
In the quiet turning of the world, I find my peace.
The images I hold are etched in soul,
A landscape where the fire and ice are one.
Though storms may threaten on the distant crest,
The garden remains the temple of our days.
I build the walls and watch the perimeter,
So you may paint the dreams that feed my heart,
And keep the balance of our home alive.
刘嘉文
© 2026 Liujiawen2024. All Rights Reserved
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 10:45 AM UTC
Wuxing Category: Earth (土)
3-xx
The mountain peaks hold fast their crowns of white,
While spring’s first breath begins to part the ice.
The lake reflects a sky of thinning glass,
And plum tree blossoms drift across the stone.
A wooden easel stands within the yard,
Where bold acrylics meet the morning light.
A fountain hums beneath a heavy sphere,
That turns in silence on a silver film.
The children's laughter echoes near the gate,
While weightless motion marks the passing hours.
I watch you turn, a moment caught in breath,
Before the shutter clicks and holds you fast.
The storm may gather on the jagged heights,
But here the garden keeps the winter’s chill at bay.
You are the heat that thaws my frozen core,
The steady hand that paints the world in gold,
A balance found within your quiet gaze.
The camera lens records the turning head,
A frame of movement stilled by silver light.
Petals swirl like snow in gentle air,
To rest upon the grass and palette’s edge.
The bees are drawn to blossoms pink and pale,
While water burbles through the granite throat.
A canvas waits for colors yet to come,
Beneath the shadow of the brooding peaks.
You are the center where my spirit rests,
In the quiet turning of the world, I find my peace.
The images I hold are etched in soul,
A landscape where the fire and ice are one.
Though storms may threaten on the distant crest,
The garden remains the temple of our days.
I build the walls and watch the perimeter,
So you may paint the dreams that feed my heart,
And keep the balance of our home alive.
刘嘉文
© 2026 Liujiawen2024. All Rights Reserved
Project Title: Elements of the Heart
Volume 3: Earth (Tǔ 土)
Authored 24APR26
