Missing is mysterious

Missing is very mysterious, there is no starting point, your face does not know when it will appear in front of you, you can't stop, no language is like a light smoke in my heart, every thread in my heart is gripping, the day is not enough, and the night is dreaming, there are butterflies fluttering in the Iraqi people

Missing is mysterious, sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter, sometimes quiet, sometimes crazy, you are in the treetops, you are in the woods, you are in the lake, you are on the seashore. Missing on the lake is like a ballet dancer who carefully tiptoes between the past and the present. Sometimes between this place and the other side, sometimes the horizon is close, sometimes the horizon can only silently approach and then fly away.

Missing is very mysterious, like a meteor line in the dark night, but it is short-lived. If you are lucky enough to see each other, it is enough to talk about a whole year.