Buledi Temple in Summer of 2014
I cannot content myself in admiring you from afar and down here. You are speaking to me and I have to listen. I have to leave my sandals as I leave my inhibitions behind. With my bare feet and bare hands and open mind, I have to climb your steep and rail-less beauty. Over a millenium ago, your still beauty was built with both red bricks and Buddhist foundations: these are enough to captivate me. (I do not know your story: scholars consider you a minor one and I content myself in approaching you with complete ignorance so I can surrender to your beauty.) So I almost reached your stuppa and breathed in your stillness. Sitting on that spot atop you, I can see Dhammayangyi, Ananda, Htilominlo, and Sulamani all set against Bagan's vast reddish-yellow dessert soils dotted with sporadic green heads. As my eyes revel to your major fellows, I am illuminated by Old Bagan's waking sun which slowly grows into a ...