Golden colours by the river, old and grey
they sparkle over each side of Bamiyan Valley
Shines and smiles of caves annihilate them
Prior to Monk XuanZang to fabled silk road.
You heard the fire and bombs in the veins of heart’s purr.
They are all stones; one big, another smaller.
It was a Sunday, a pray day and you heard the egos of
screams: morals! Your eyes and lips ampersand
Dusts and sands persist over 1700 years of Dynasties.
Sculptures of love vanished at Bamiyan valley
Was this loves outcome then, these stones made, red materials
Addressed with an order of elimination that fires so blindingly?
“Not in vain, not in vain, Shall I look for you again”
The voice of XuanZang transformed his precepts are sound,
“An infinite…XYZ” with the veins of our eternal love.
Their eyelids say.
The Bamiyan Buddhas appear to have been the work of the Gandhara civilization, showing some Greco-Roman artistic influence in the clinging drape of the robes. Small niches around the statues hosted pilgrims and monks; many of them feature brightly-painted wall and ceiling art illustrating scenes from the life and teachings of the Buddha.
