You said that you had been sleeping in front of the Buddha for thousands of years, and it was not until you met me that you shed a tear of melancholy.
I said, you are a bowl lotus that I planted with my own hands. All the other flowers were blooming, but you were the only one who did not reveal your beautiful face to me until it withered.
So I began to pray devoutly, hoping that before it gets dark, I would exchange my thousands of waitings for you to look back once.
But, there is no looking back.
Am I not religious enough, or am I just a passer-by in your life.
Yes!
You and I have only walked a certain distance together, so why make the memory last longer than the experience? What's more, it's me and you again.
I'm not a persistent person, really.