Staring into the sky you can see the profile of each platform above you, jutting out of the side of the temple like petals. In the distance you can see other temples rising up like mountains, but the edge of your platform curves away, blocking your view of the ones just below you. All your life, you’ve never really seen any other platform but your own.
Once in a while the humble doors in the side of the temple will slide open, and the tall priests, completely covered by flowing robes of many subtle colors, will escort someone new in, or take someone away. You have never seen more than the hallway just outside the door. You have never been taken to any of the other platforms.
The ground of your platform is soft grass, and a a pleasant breeze blows. The storms are warm, and bring life to the humble farm you tend with the help of your large family, everybody living on the platform. You are entirely content. You work a little, and spend your days making small things with your hands.
And sometimes you dream.