The Idol Poem by Shankaran Kutty

The Idol


A mighty stone edifice
On top the idol, where
In times of troubled mind
Or when I am in pain
Or simply go in peace
For no reason or rhyme
Yet it did keep me in humour
It kept me in spirits high

So strong was it built
On foundation so deep
The winds that blew from the south
Couldn’t cut the walls so steep
The sands and snows over time
Couldn’t but retreat
And so thought it will last
Through time, tide and eternity

Yet a slow yet steady breeze
Or was it the beating sun
Little pieces of rock,
Some jagged, some so smooth
Or the rivulet of tears
That washed the base, each day
But the altar I had built
Did collapse one day

The idol lost its shine
The halo, lost in the darkness
The power it had to heal
Turned into a curse each day
Whither shall I rush in despair
Whither I seek my hope
The God where I sought my boons
Had turned into a rock so soon

Came into the world so strange
And leave it a forlorn stranger
And through the rocks and thorns
The idol was to guide my way
Yet, I watch it crumble
Weathered by petty force
Without my idol to guide
A vagabond, in the journey of life

Fools are those men who
Make Gods of rocks and stone
The real Gods we need
Is the soul within
And so the journey anew
I start fresh and without fear
Let the broken idols lie
Crushed, by the paths gone by.