A temple stood upon a terrace paved with white stone.
Its halls and pavilions were built entirely from the seven treasures, with glazed tiles, giant-clam-shell pillars, red-pearl balustrades, and agate steps.
When sunlight fell upon the roof, a thousand layers of gold streamed down through the gaps between the tiles, enveloping the entire temple in a warm, radiant treasure light.
Within the hall sat a golden-bodied Buddha, cross-legged upon a lotus dais, its sacred countenance solemn and majestic.
Yet a closer look revealed that the Buddha's eyes were blue-black, dark and fathomless, devoid of compassion as they gazed coldly down upon the ceaseless stream of novices below.
The temple was filled with novices clad in gray kasayas.
Some chanted sutras; others struck wooden fish, their steady knocking neither hurried nor slow.
Other novices tilled the fields outside the temple. Each stroke of a hoe turned up not soil but gleaming golden grains, every kernel plump. Some carried the grain into the temple, where it instantly became fruit, vegetables, and daily meals, cooked without fire and fragrant without seasoning.
Looking around, one could find not a single visiting lay devotee. It was as though this realm constituted a kingdom unto itself, with no need for contact with the outside world.
Among the monastics were men and women, some walking shoulder to shoulder, others leading or carrying their children, murmuring and smiling in perfect harmony.
Children chased one another beneath the corridors, while elders sang sutras and recited the Buddha's name in the shade of trees-a picture of familial bliss.
Clearly, this Buddha Kingdom neither forbade marriage nor shunned childbirth.
From farther away, it became apparent that there was more than one such temple. Halls and pavilions of every size stretched in an unbroken expanse, numbering in the thousands.
Novices in gray