Light showers—so typical for late spring—wheeled in from the sea. They reached the Kotoku-in Temple in Kamakura, where a forty foot statue of Amida Buddha sat contentedly at the top of a steep rise. Lush, tree-filled woodlands surrounded the stone square about it, while here and there, the sweeping tops of temple roofs peeked out of the underbrush.
None stood taller than the statue, however, and when the weak storm front approached from the east, its gentle rains drummed against the figure’s wide shoulders like a bell struck with a thousand softened hammers. Water rolled down the arms to pool in its neatly folded hands. A faint, greenish glow surrounded the upturned palms, pulsing once before bleaching to a pure white light.
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