Beyond the clear, calm, and flower-bedecked surface stretched the Plain of Death, or the Kingdom of Siva.
The sun never rose and never set in that region; there was no day and no night there, but the whole plain was of a lily-colored, absolute clearness. No shadow fell in that region, for clearness inhered there so thoroughly that it seemed the real essence of Siva’s dominions.
The region was not empty. As far as the eye could reach were seen heights and valleys where beautiful trees stood in groups; on those trees rose climbing plants, while ivy and grapevines were hanging from the cliff sides.
But the cliffs and the tree trunks and the slender plant stems were almost transparent, as if formed out of light grown material. The leaves of the ivy had in them a delicate roseate light as of dawn. And all was in marvellous rest, such as none on the Plain of Life had experienced; all was as if sunk in serene meditation, as if dreaming and resting in continuous slumber, unthreatened by waking.
In the clear air not the slightest breeze was discovered, not a flower was seen moving, not a leaf showed a quiver.
The people who had come to the shore with loud conversation and clamor grew silent at sight of those lily-colored, motionless spaces, and whispered:
“What quiet! How everything rests there in clearness!”
“Oh, yes, there is rest and unbroken repose in that region.”
So some, namely, those who were weariest, said after a silence:
“Let us find the sleep which is surely unbroken.”