Tibet is in my heart.

"Living in the Potala Palace, I am the biggest king and walking on the streets of Lhasa. I am the most beautiful lover." I accidentally read a poem by Cangyang Gyatso, and I was fascinated by this magical place of Tibet.

I recently read Tibetan love letters and relived his love poems. I'm still shocked and moved. How high the sky is in Tibet, how beautiful the scenery is.

It turns out that only in the pure land of the vast world can we be a real person; Finally, I understand that in the high-rise buildings in the city, I lost a lot of pure things in my humble abode in the relentless and miscellaneous competition. Without the soil with the essence of life, how can I grow my simple and beautiful mood and love? The holy land of Tibet, standing in the clouds, is a dream city in the sky.

Pure heaven and earth, simple Tibetans, seem isolated from the outside world. I envy backpackers on the road. Since they set foot on the pure land, they have been feeling and harvesting this land, shocking and touching their hearts. Even if you don't have any religious beliefs, you will be moved to tears by worship as long as you are tall. How can such a paradise on earth not be desirable?

I started reading books and listening to music about Tibet. My soul can't wait to swim to that magical land with the description in the book. Medog seemed to see the snow lotus on the 5500-meter plateau.

It seems that I smell the fragrance of ghee and hear the nomadic love songs echoing in my ears. There are colorful prayer flags floating on the pile of Ma Ni, and the sunshine of Potala Palace washes my soul. Let me follow the Lama's prayer and pursue the long love poem that has been passed down through the ages in Cangyang Gyatso on this magical pure land.

I want to join them with my luggage and enjoy the real grassland, blue sky, white clouds and lakes.

I want to see the reincarnation on the Sansheng Stone, and I want to know the origin and end of previous lives. I want to listen to Muyuan's passionate love songs, and I want to go to the holy lake to grab a handful of water and taste its sweetness.

I want the sunshine there to dry my sadness, I want highland barley wine to make my face intoxicated, and I want Gesanghua to shine on my dream. By this time, I have understood that the descriptions of those literati are not melodramatic, but a yearning in the depths of my soul.

I remember you once said that riding a bike to Tibet together hurt me inexplicably ... In my dream, my hands were folded, and the snowy mountain was my ladder to heaven, touching the clouds in the nearest city to the sky and writing Yun Shenchu for you.