“Go tell the mountain,” is all he spoke. The mountain was where savage met serene, it had a quiet beauty all its own that stretched for mile after mile. Trees and other vegetation sprawled over the land, grabbing, reaching, clinging. The sun was so bright it seemed to touch every corner of dark that it could possibly find. A breeze shook over the trees with such a brilliant subtlety that it was hardly even noticeable.
His voice was a soft flutter of melody, serene like the mountain itself. Standing upon a rock, his golden blonde hair radiated in the breeze as the rays of the sun swirled it through its fingers. He wore a jacket of dark blue. It eased its way down his thighs with buttons gleaming in the sun, as the rays, too, reached out to cover their darkness. A pair of worn, faded jeans led their way to boots, once black but now masked in earth. His eyes, deep and arcane, gazed off into the distance. Smoke bellowed from a near by house and slowly dissipated as if the fresh air had swallowed it whole, twirling around before giving in to its final surrender. The wind suddenly picked up as if it were attempting to whisper.
His eyes fluttered softly with an unspoken understanding between cities and the earth that they stood on. He followed his roots, like the strings of a guitar, playing a song of such love and desperation. One could tell he had dreams embedded within, full of such melancholy beauty. His name was Shaku Chi Ken, follower of Buddha, with wisdom and vision. He was there to give up the sun.