In such a night as this...

I sit on the garden swing at the top floor, the white paint shimmering in resonance with the hue around it. Somewhere in a tree, a koel sings. I look up to the sky, and the moon sits, in all brilliance, yet in all peace. 

The month, new. The night, ancient. And life, both. 

In such a night as this, perhaps, the world welcomed the prince. 

In such a night as this did he finally sit and closed his eyes, the eyes that belonged to the son who yearned, the husband who loved, the father who remembered. And the eyes opened again; the eyes that belonged to the enlightened one. 

In such a night as this, the sage finally lay, with his being, in symphony and his heart, in peace, as he left the mortal coil.

But The Tathagata didn't believe in the idea of soul, so what really left?

Perhaps what the moon is to the moonlight, love is to the being. 

In such a night as this, the magnolia and the jasmine frolicked around each other, of who'd enamour the rambler first.

In such a night as this, The Holy Master asked a satsangi of the congregation, if he somewhat matched the beauty of the woman he adored, and the disciple saw the beauty of a thousand lotus bloom as a smile spread graciously... Love love love. It's all love, so say The Saints. And thus find those who seek.

In such a night, The Hermit remembers, that to the world out there, he too is known as a Chandra. He looks to the blooming Sakura, and then to the Selene, and thinks to himself, the moon is beautiful, isn't it?

Love.