Sorrow

[idk 46]

Spoiler

 

 

(Art – Lownine)

 

 

“The past is already gone, the future is not yet here. There’s only one moment for you to live.” - Huālián, Prophet of the Eightfold Way

 

 

The faint smell of ashes and incense mingle in the air, a small column of smoke rising above the seaside. Rows of urns line the beach, placed respectfully upon wooden tables; their shadows long, cast in the dim light of the setting sun.

 

A Hou-Zi monk shuffles down the lines of urns, alone, her weathered figure stark against the quiet sands. In her arms is a covered tray of white bones, slightly charred from the lick of merciless flames. A straw hat rests on her head, casting most of her face in shade, and the click of her worn sandals match the gentle thud of the walking stick by her side. Her features are creased, solemn, as she chants, her raspy voice carrying across the empty coast.

 

“Dāng wǒ líkāi xiànzài de shēnghuó shí,

Ràng wǒ kěyǐ zhíjiē qù nàlǐ.

Yuàn zhè, wǒ rèqiè de qídǎo,
Bèi Huālián, Hóu Shén hé bā gè fāngxiàng zhùfú.”

“When I leave this earthly plane, may I be delivered to [heaven].

May my impassioned prayer, be blessed by Hualian, Hou Shen, and the Eightfold Way.”

 

As she places the bones, washed and polished, into the final urn, her chanting falls away, as though the tide receding from the shore. She kneels and clutches her beads of prayer in her hands, closing her eyes, as she mourns for the fallen xiōngdì and xiōngmèi.

The raft bobs away, swept off by the gentle tide, filled with these urns of grief and lament. It is merely an interlude, between the cycles of life and death. A moment in time. She knows that, and it is her role to make sure that it passes – to ensure that those who are reborn may do so with grace, and that those who pass on make their way seamlessly to the skies above. Yet the fur on her face is damp, streaked with lines of moisture.

 

When the last of the sun’s rays disappear over the horizon, she finally gets to her feet, leaning on her gnarled walking stick. Her eyes swivel over to the empty Hou-Zi town, which just a day ago, bustled with activity and joy.

 

Wordlessly, she heads off, staff tapping against the ground, and robes swishing up plumes of sand and dust. A lone figure, dignified, yet sorrowful.

 

Quote

 

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To the people of Qinghai,

 

It has not even been a lunar cycle since I have come, yet you have made it clear to me that your hearts have been as welcome and open to me as though I was one of your own. Within a single setting of the sun I was able to see your contentedness and joy, the fruit harvested from years of hard work, a family built from dedication and mutual support.

 

Instead of gray skies, I was able to walk under colourful, high-flying banners. Instead of empty deserts, a row of anglers cast fishing lines into the water before me, laughing as cod splashed them with water. Instead of a lonely candle, dozens of lanterns lit up the town at night, their soft glows reflecting off the sea.

 

All of this, gone with the splatter of blood upon the wooden streets.

 

It makes me wonder. Huālián always preached of the Eightfold Way. Of these eight, the sin of causing harm upon others is one oft repeated. What does it reflect on a ruler, when to settle disputes he turns to the blade? When the clamour for blood is preferable to vying for peace?

 

It makes me wonder - how can a ruler claim he presents the best for his people, when it is so easy for him to tell his guards to unsheathe their dāo? Is this truly the will of Hóu Shén? To see his children turn on each other, in times which should be of the greatest happiness?

 

I almost fear for the Hou guó. For all that has been built, to crumble again, like the cities of old. But I do not fear, for endurance is a trait of our people. Strength in not just physical power, but of mind, of spirit.

 

This old monk will be travelling west, to seek answers in this turmoil. Perhaps prayer will clear my mind, perhaps it will not. But stay strong, children of Hóu Shén. For I know we will find answers, as we have done for ages past. I just pray that no matter what, we will not stray from the path.

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[Doom321 305]

lol bye

[idk 46]

10 minutes ago, Doom321 said:

lol bye

A monk weeps at this beautiful prose, for surely there is no work, no prayer short of a creation from Hou Shen himself that can rival these two words.

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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