That day, I closed my eyes in the fragrant mist of the Sutra Hall, and suddenly I heard you chanting the mantra in the Sutra.
That month, I shook all the prayer wheels, not for salvation, but just to touch your fingertips.
That year, I kowtowed on the mountain road, not to meet you, but just to be close to your warmth.
In that life, I went to the mountains not to cultivate the next life, but to meet you on the way.
Conception: