Ode To Konark: Erotica Etched In Stones

I wonder at those skilled hands/

That had sculpted these stones/

Were they as passionate in art/

As the sunrays caressing/

These erotica etched in stones…

 

I wonder at those nude models/

Whose postures of combine/

Had titillated the chisel to strike/

Immortal play of mortals on stones…

 

But the sculptors were of human flesh/

Did they combine on lusty beds of moans/

Did they miss their wives back home/

On solitary nights amidst the stones/

Did they go to prostitutes those nights/

After labouring on sex all day on stones…

 

Or did the gods descend on this earth/

To create the eternal bliss of combine/

In these living sculptures of stones/

Did the Creator marvel at procreation/

Of these passionate lovers on stones…

 

I stand on the ancient steps of the temple/

The Sun bathes me, His chariot as well/

My soul combines with the open love/

Unabashedly celebrated on stones/

& I feel so naked within myself/

More nude than these unclothed stones…

 

Hark! I hear the music of laughter/

Of these coquettish sculptures/

Those flaunt their flesh of stones/

They reach out to embrace me/

With arms & legs of living stones…

 

They are indeed blessed to celebrate/

Eternal love in these eternal stones/

They know not pain, no anger, no hate/

Fated only to love & lust in stones…

 

I surrender my soul in reverence/

To behold the divine dance of oneness/

In these immortal sculptures in stones…