The Golden Lotus Theater, ravaged by a devastating fire 40 years ago, now lies on the ground in front of my feet. This was the place where my mother's life began and ended. She had met my father, a scribe who worked at the palace of the King. Maia was her name. She was said to be the most beautiful dancer at the golden lotus. She was a deep-eyed maiden; a renowned ballerina. She would perform for hours for the royal court every night, with her dainty feet bound in silk to make them appear small, graceful, and crescent moon shaped. She danced on top of a six foot high golden lotus, adorned with jewels and pearls built for her by the King. The King built the shining lotus theater for Maia, as a testament of his love for her. The King watched my mother every night, and had become completely obsessed by her. He asked for her every night after her performance, though being a maiden she always politely declined. The King showered her with gifts, hoping to cajole her into his bed, unknowing that her heart already belonged to another. Theo, the scribe, my father, and the King's right hand loved Maia as well. The two would meet in secret, proclaiming their love for each other. One night, Theo spent the night with Maia. Their brief stolen moment was discovered by another dancer, who quickly reported the encounter to the King. The King, distraught and enraged at the rejection and betrayal, called Theo to the palace. He accused Theo of treason to the crown, and had him castrated. Maia was also brought to the palace. The King ordered for cast iron shoes to be placed in the fire. When the metal turned red hot, the shoes were placed on Maia's feet, after which she was forced to dance for the court one last time. The theater was burned to the ground, and all memory of the name Maia was erased. Theo and Maia were banished from the palace, and sent to opposite sides of the empire. Theo became a priest, and Maia entered a convent. The two lovers spent the rest of their lives writing letters of love and devotion to each other, though they never met again. After some time, Maia gave birth to a little girl. It is here, on the site where she experienced the most acute, and purest love she had ever known, that my mother wished to be buried. As I gaze at the headstone, my eyes burn with unspent tears as I read the inscription, "Here lies Maia, a dearly loved mother, the Golden Lotus of the empire"