The silver mountain had disclosed answers to a meditating saint in deep recess ,now sky blue with priests interceding for us on behalf of a phallic stone god. Then were no blue – red painted pillars enclosing people bathing phallus gods with smooth gluey banana milk paste, just a saint and his God in banyan trees sprouting from silver recesses for wind.
The saint would look for beauty in jungle and in silver mountains, on his cross-legs ,blinded by a gold of sun , a child’s doubts ,a flicker in the mind like a child’s smile.
We search beauty in blue stone pillars climbing kitschy colors engulfing men. Their beauty flows in white gluey paste around phallus gods in silver mountain. The mountain is no more silver but blue with white clouds about it as gluey paste.