THE STONE BUDDHA

Taxila, Pakistan

Color breaks and holds a thought
much like a face whose permanence lies

more in the heart than in the eye. Strong
smooth ambassador of the frozen hours,

you revive memories of a sacred past.
A story born from countless footprints

lives upon your face as an Asokan edict.
Buddha acquires a place on the mantle-piece

of Time, a chiselled reminder of the fact
that caprice cannot survive the moment.

You are molded by all that precedes
and all that follows. When the final flower

sprouts on an empty world, the graveyard
of new deities, hold firmly the root for me

for this winter greenery is trenchant,
much like a face immaculate in stone.

by Shuja Nawaz