That day, I closed my eyes in the fragrant mist of the Sutra Hall, and suddenly I heard you reciting 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 and prostrated on the mountain road, not to meet you, but just to be close to your warmth;
In that life, I traveled around mountains, rivers, and pagodas, not to cultivate the next life, but just to meet you on the way...
I excerpted Tsangyang Gyatso's poems to write the copy, firstly because I am lazy, and secondly because I am moved.
Conception: