My howls waved through the Night -- my Buddha;
you whispered: come with me -- my poor Lotus.
Come, so I did;
tears, but They started to shed.
Once the Flower bloomed so sweet;
once They embraced, even my feet.
That was all before The Night,
when the blades still glared in the Light.
Now the Battle is over -- so is my Sword;
now the Lotus is Home -- so is my Lord.
-- By Jackie Shen