Crying
September 17th, 2014, 12:51 AM
So I'm thinking of writing a novel including the Bodhisattva Kuanyin (Guanyin) as a recurring character. I wrote this in class as a possible opening to said novel, and I wanted to know what you all thought? Thanks :)
Of course, the bodhisattvas had walked the Earth since before the fall had occurred. They watched the world stir and settle, watched the humans become less and less devoted, less and less pure. And of course they guarded the faithful, guiding them as much as possible though the world was dark, though the nights grew cold and the days grew hot. Some found their way to monasteries, to abbies, to churches or temples, and helped to raise the faithful to enlightenment, however hard it had become. Others took to the streets and preached to the poor, to the hungry, speaking softly and lifting those who would listen from their gaunt-faced reveries for as long as they were able. And then, then there were those who went quiet.
Kuanyin, the bodhisattva great and compassionate, never became less powerful as the years advanced. No matter what came to her, her heart could only expand. Could only glow with all the compassion she had inside of her, the very compassion that bound her to the earth itself. Many times she walked the streets, damping her halo as she could, smiling the secretive smile of one who is undeniably good. And she forgave people as she walked, for it was all she could do in such a world. She forgave those babbling drunks, looking through their bloodshot eyes and thinking through their hazy minds and forgiving them to their very cores for all they had fallen from, all they had let slip through their fingers. She forgave those hard-eyed businessmen, feeling the ache where their humanity had slipped from their souls, eroded by the churning sea of information, of competition. She forgave those women with bruises on their cheeks, with tired eyes, empty eyes, filled with sadness and shame and irreplaceable love, she held their hearts in her long fingers and healed and nursed them as she was able. She forgave any and all who sought her, who sought anything, and the world became no lighter and still trees fell and power grew and there was worry and toil. And yet those forgiven, those touched by her great aura saw everything all at once, as if the world were new, and Kuanyin saw this as she walked and she thought of the good there was.
Of course, the bodhisattvas had walked the Earth since before the fall had occurred. They watched the world stir and settle, watched the humans become less and less devoted, less and less pure. And of course they guarded the faithful, guiding them as much as possible though the world was dark, though the nights grew cold and the days grew hot. Some found their way to monasteries, to abbies, to churches or temples, and helped to raise the faithful to enlightenment, however hard it had become. Others took to the streets and preached to the poor, to the hungry, speaking softly and lifting those who would listen from their gaunt-faced reveries for as long as they were able. And then, then there were those who went quiet.
Kuanyin, the bodhisattva great and compassionate, never became less powerful as the years advanced. No matter what came to her, her heart could only expand. Could only glow with all the compassion she had inside of her, the very compassion that bound her to the earth itself. Many times she walked the streets, damping her halo as she could, smiling the secretive smile of one who is undeniably good. And she forgave people as she walked, for it was all she could do in such a world. She forgave those babbling drunks, looking through their bloodshot eyes and thinking through their hazy minds and forgiving them to their very cores for all they had fallen from, all they had let slip through their fingers. She forgave those hard-eyed businessmen, feeling the ache where their humanity had slipped from their souls, eroded by the churning sea of information, of competition. She forgave those women with bruises on their cheeks, with tired eyes, empty eyes, filled with sadness and shame and irreplaceable love, she held their hearts in her long fingers and healed and nursed them as she was able. She forgave any and all who sought her, who sought anything, and the world became no lighter and still trees fell and power grew and there was worry and toil. And yet those forgiven, those touched by her great aura saw everything all at once, as if the world were new, and Kuanyin saw this as she walked and she thought of the good there was.