I drift off in search of something I had once glimpsed.
Something in a remote jungle setting.
I pass by the markets laid out in rowed fashion. The sun is surprisingly intense, yet shaded by the large brimmed straw that sits on my head. My feet are dusty and a bit eager. I cannot remember the name of this place, just its location. I cannot remember exactly the significance, other than the reflection.
The reflection on water...
The moon is shining in great full capacity. Who is it that beckons me to follow? Up the rigid gopura, thus being the south. It is dark within these frozen walls, and too dark to glimpse the details of the dvarapala. Onward to the elevated temple mountain. I hear water... running water. I enter into the centre of the cross. What purpose does this place have, putting aside former notions of archaeological favor for spirituality? The being stands beside me, a man much shorter than I, and he holds out his hand to mine. I reach to take his offering. I find myself holding a chalice with the resemblance of Mount Meru. This miniature Bakong sitting perfectly in the diameter of my hand was seemingly stone, yet had a silvery undertone to it. The man then directed me to stand within the east and west, and directly under the circular opening that was at the temple's pinnacle. A silence embounded me in this distant place. Slowly, almost methodically, the bright white of the celestial being in the sky journeyed into view. As the minutes progressed the silver moon took up the entire space of the pinnacle skylight. Once this occurred, I peered down into the artifact I was holding, as the entire surface of the vessel glowed. Then the openings on the cup, to the scale of the windows on the Wat, poured out this bright light in directional patterns of the two cardinals. The water carved trellis' absorbed the directed light right out through the very sandstone windows that surrounded me. I could see the trail of reflections now at each of the four corners, and there from dispersing outwards to the barays. The event that transpired was that of pure awe, as the moon was then reflected a hundred times over, side by side, surrounding the entire moat.
The water of moons.
Something in a remote jungle setting.
I pass by the markets laid out in rowed fashion. The sun is surprisingly intense, yet shaded by the large brimmed straw that sits on my head. My feet are dusty and a bit eager. I cannot remember the name of this place, just its location. I cannot remember exactly the significance, other than the reflection.
The reflection on water...
The moon is shining in great full capacity. Who is it that beckons me to follow? Up the rigid gopura, thus being the south. It is dark within these frozen walls, and too dark to glimpse the details of the dvarapala. Onward to the elevated temple mountain. I hear water... running water. I enter into the centre of the cross. What purpose does this place have, putting aside former notions of archaeological favor for spirituality? The being stands beside me, a man much shorter than I, and he holds out his hand to mine. I reach to take his offering. I find myself holding a chalice with the resemblance of Mount Meru. This miniature Bakong sitting perfectly in the diameter of my hand was seemingly stone, yet had a silvery undertone to it. The man then directed me to stand within the east and west, and directly under the circular opening that was at the temple's pinnacle. A silence embounded me in this distant place. Slowly, almost methodically, the bright white of the celestial being in the sky journeyed into view. As the minutes progressed the silver moon took up the entire space of the pinnacle skylight. Once this occurred, I peered down into the artifact I was holding, as the entire surface of the vessel glowed. Then the openings on the cup, to the scale of the windows on the Wat, poured out this bright light in directional patterns of the two cardinals. The water carved trellis' absorbed the directed light right out through the very sandstone windows that surrounded me. I could see the trail of reflections now at each of the four corners, and there from dispersing outwards to the barays. The event that transpired was that of pure awe, as the moon was then reflected a hundred times over, side by side, surrounding the entire moat.
The water of moons.
