The ground shook beneath me, I lost my balance:
Demon Mara appeared to challenge me.
He wounded me, but I wounded him back:
Blood on my trainee Manjushri light sabre.
‘I may have severed a few limbs of afflictions,
Yet, the Demon is alive, regenerating
New limbs for his next attack. I shall destroy
This Demon of Self-Cherishing: he will not live!’
Demon Mara laughed like the mockingbird,
‘You thought you could terminate her,
The Girl Who Loved Too Much,
It was only a flesh wound, you know.’
Bloody and torn, trembling she laid,
Her Manjushri light sabre beyond her reach.
She cried: ‘Lama, my Lama! Why?’
The sun fired the desert sand like gold.
