There was a madman in the village who laughed and cried by turns. He lived in the dilapidated temple at the edge of the village, raving day and night.
He was always muttering that he had once seen that world, that he had stood at its very peak, looking down on all life from the mountaintop. But to ordinary people, it all seemed impossible to understand.
One rainy night, I saw him dancing gracefully in the temple, waving the wooden stick in his hand.
He grabbed my wrist and, pointing excitedly at the heavens, said, “Child, can you see them? The [Twin Lords of Heaven and Earth]...”
“I really do have a world!”
That day, I took shelter from the rain in his temple and listened to his story.
Years later, a car accident let me see the world the madman had talked about for myself.
