The Dancing Girl

(Inspired by a stone carving of a dancer at one of the temples I visited last year.)

Where are the hands that carved this stone?
What magic was there in those fingers?
From a block they have coaxed a marvel to the eye,
An eternity that ever will linger.

What love has fashioned that touch of a smile,
And that curve of the hip at the waist?
To what God did he pray to capture the soul?
What muse guided his day?

The delicate tracery of the garment in folds,
Each ornament that adorns her face,
The thrust of her breasts and the grace of her arms,
Hold me spellbound every day.

For hundreds of years she has danced to this song,
Its lyrics and music never heard,
But if you watch her in silence and listen with your eyes,
It’s echo will fill your world.

The bells of the anklet chime through each day,
And the tinkle of bangles on her hand,
The thud of her feet as she keeps beat to the sway,
And dances to an unseen band.

Her anklets will ring in your heart ever after,
Her fingers will ripple through your soul,
The music and song will go on forever,
In a beauty you can never let go.

Where are the hands that carved this stone?
What kind of man was he?
How far did he travel, how did he come here?
Or was he just like you and me?

Where are the hands that carved this stone?
What fingers created this face?
Was he a God or a man with a touch so divine?
Or someone from outer space?

This timeless beauty touches me to the core,
And although the creator is gone,
His hand and his heart gave life to his work,
And a soul that will live on and on.