The memories flood in, distant feelings quickly coming to the surface as if waking from a dream. The crowd, the noise, the raging swirling skies with clouds that dance across like waves crashing onto the shores of the heavens. One could write a book of poetry simply standing here, staring at its feet. Though it may appear different on the outside it has not changed in essence - the great white Stupa gazes up as it always has. When the dimming daylight finally drifts into night, the Stupa comes alive as the whole of space is covered in candlelight and shadow, the night glowing with excited faces and devoted hearts. Bouddha is still standing tall, a spire peering to the heavens, reborn with the coming night. Though things may appear different, they have not changed. It is still home, it is still all that I remember it to be and more. Still looking to the sky, unabated and powerful, the great white Stupa is reborn once more.
