The temple reeks of the power of days gone by. When people prayed to their deaths as a savior from this taskless ramshackled life which they didnt call a life (quite contrary to nowadays - where people boast of the kind and quality of life they have, yet I feel they have none). What admiration to people who would throw away everything to look at an abstract yet real and bounding concept of death. Death which ends everything. Removes memory and removes relations. This is what they prayed to, emulated and finally gave everything to. Before the real physical death happened. Some even created their own final ending. So they could have and give up control during the time of their reckoning. Their salvation.
(Its not about the temple - its not about the place even though there is energy there. There has to be real founded feeling. Real existential requirements which make you go there, to be a part of the hum drum and the sharp and true loneliness of the crematorium)
The Shiva Linga - adorned with a face; hair made to look like a mustache -> impressive and adorable. With mock and reverent devotees all around touching kissing praying to the symbol of phallic stone consciousness. The motor drive which will fly us into outer space; from where we originated. Where we must make our final journey to stay. I prayed too, diving deep into the ocean of inner chaos and the peace which ensues from therein. Stayed not for long as the filthy police wannabes were busy chasing away the love which may come looking at something so simple after lifetimes. But that is useless to impress upon them anywhich ways.
I sat silent, exuberant and in peace and then it was TIME; I mean BIG TIME to leave. I know it would come to this, and soon enough it would come to the burning of one's own pyre. When would it be time for such deeds?