The Apsara and the Stone
—a poem by Lucas Varro
There dwelt a maid of temple grace,
her steps once carved in flight—
she danced no more through time or space,
but waited, veiled in night.
Her fingers poised in curving air,
her gaze cast down in stone—
she yearned for one who once stood there,
but now she danced alone.
He was a guardian hewn of gold,
a sentinel, wise and still,
whose arms had once the heavens held,
yet bound by timeless will.
She loved him through the roots of years,
through lichen, rain, and flame—
whispered songs no soul could hear,
and traced his hidden name.
One dusk beneath the sacred fig,
when even winds lay hushed,
she touched his brow with trembling light—
and into stone she rushed.
Her shadow wove within his form
as petals graced the shrine;
temple walls grew warm with song
no lips would dare define.
They never speak, they never move—
yet stones remember clear
the breath of one apsara,
her presence woven here.
And once each year, when moonlight parts
the gate where lions wait,
they step from walls with silver hearts—
and dance beyond all fate.
Also in Library
The Silence of Scales
A staircase inhales, and silence thickens between stone scales. Each step remembers serpents once carved, pearl-light gathering in its breath. In this luminous flash gem, a traveller climbs toward hush and revelation, where silence itself becomes flame. A tale brief as an exhalation, yet lingering like pearl-light beneath moss.
The Crocodile and the Moon Eel: A Tide-Bargain
A crocodile waits in hush where river bends to moonlight. From the silt, a pearl-lit eel rises, whispering a bargain of scale and tide. What is given is never returned whole: hunger meets silence, storm keeps watch, and the river writes its law in breath.
Field Note: Blue Hour at Angkor
The blue hour settles over Angkor like a hush in stone. Naga coils dissolve into shadow, carvings soften into silence, and hunger without teeth endures. A sketch becomes listening. Each fracture is a hymn, each hollow a river. A field note on patience, memory, and the stillness that lingers.
