Wacky Wednesday – “Shangri-La”

6 Jun

There was a mountain, jagged, black, and immeasurably tall. From the ground it was impossible to see the summit, which was obscured by a downy ring of cloud.

Upon the mountain, very near to the peak, a small temple was tucked into the crag. The temple was quiet, and clean, and still. Even at this altitude, lush greenery sprouted from the ground and climbed the white stone pillars. Birds chittered. It was a place of serenity and wonder.

Inside the temple, facing the warmth of the setting sun, was a girl. She sat utterly unmoving, her eyes closed, her breathing so slow it was undetectable. Her face was blank as fresh parchment, but she smiled from within herself. Her joy radiated out in a tangible cloud, fierce and real and selfless.

After a time, when the sun’s yellow brilliance faded to a rusty glow, the girl’s eyes opened. These were not the opened eyes of sight. She was looking beyond, into nothing.

She would have said, “everything”.

A dewdrop slapped her shaved pate as it fell from the temple’s heights, but she took no notice. As the light faded, the water ran down her face in a rivulet which clung to her cheek like a tear. Still she sat, unmoving, unseeing.

The air cooled quickly in the absence of daylight, and a crisp zephyr caressed the girl’s rough-woven tunic. The song of the birds had succumbed to sleep, and the chorus of night came tentatively to life.

Piercing the calm, a kaleidoscope of dazzling colour burst against the girl’s mind in a euphoric wave. She gasped, her composure shattered. Her body shook as divinity whispered its song into her ears. She fell onto her back, and her gaping eyes were a radiant pool, reflecting the boundless whirl of the cosmos.

The mountaintop insects chirped on. In the tender crucible of darkness, the little monk-girl laughed the laugh of the freed.

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