The next morning arrived softly and quietly.
The morning bell of Emile Temple rang, but the elderly Abbot had risen long before it. He made his way to the Buddha Hall, leading everyone in chanting scriptures.
"I was born from the right side; you, Maitreya, were born from the crown.
If I live a hundred years, Maitreya lives eighty-four thousand years.
My land is barren, yours is golden.
My land is filled with suffering, yours is filled with joy..."
Accompanying the chanting was the rhythmic turning of prayer beads. With each recitation, the bead in hand revolved once.
Rows upon rows of skeletal starving ghosts knelt on meditation mats, day after day offering devotion to the scriptures.
