Monks

Rows upon rows of monks, young and old, sit in silence. Heads bowed and hands clasped, they pray to their gods in the dead of night. A candle for every man flickers in the dark, casting a low and ominous light on their faces. A soft wind blows from the east, urging the small flames to dance. With their backs to the breeze, the monks stay still as their simple orange robes ripple ever so slightly.