Seeing is dead The master sculptor had made tonalities Stone upon stone, of women in dance Men in beards,

servants removing thorns From the swollen feet of soft princesses. Their cloth caps towered over dainty feet. Nubile girls danced on slender midriffs Of black tonalities, ankles high in the air. A child gods flute was heard in soft stone. Gods lived in fading nights of a memory. The vandals seeing is death of immortality The death of artifice, the death of beauty.

(Several sculpted figures can be seen in deliberate disfigurement by historys van dals on the exquisite temple walls of the Ramappa temple near Warrangal in Andhr a Pradesh)