Thursday, November 01, 2007

Mount Koya

Mount Koya. A train journey through hills and fields. Sky after sky. Bridges flirting with void. Autumn burning.

Getting there with my beloved ones. Outside, rain and mists. Tears rolling down windows. Shallow figures. Water screens in which shouting children throw themselves.

Graves, graves covered with moss. Tombs wrapped with green coats and spider webs. Names, prayers under the vertical assembly of cedar trees. Path leading to your-mine very end. Makun laughs and giggles.The place is bloody real. I think, I would like to drop my black bones here. In all this.

At the end, Kukai's last abode. Pilgrims dressed in white singing the heart sutra.
At the end, my empty shell. Too. All gulped by It.

Kukai is but a dry mummy sitting in the secrecy of a sect that feeds followers with tales.Kukai is every single exhausted and joyous cell of this big fish. Kukai is a flower, a cup of tea, all things vain and mundane.