Between The Sleeping And The Laughing Buddha Poem by Prayag Saikia

Have you engraved any epitaph
on the Buddha
shattered by the Talibans

I haven't
‘Cos my most reverred man
gave me once
a handful of mustard-seeds
to preach a tale of birth and death

Like a story-teller
I roamed through the ravages
and met many a bereaved soul
in black robes

Sitting on the sand they muttered out
their own heart-crafted epitaph

I found my grip loosen
and spilled my adored seeds on a fragment of Buddha rock

The seeds made a magic imprint
the rock smiled with a unique piece of calligraphy
- - Time can't be uprooted
it dwells between the sleeping and the laughing soul
so don't end it with an epitaph

I picked up my seeds
and retrieved my soul

The rock revived a story-teller again.