Poetry

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As I stood there watching
An Idol of a man standing tall
Festooned with flower garlands
A child deliberately pushed the man
He started to fall
The garlands were caked with filth
His painted face was smothered with dirt
People rushed to the motionless man
They lifted him up and did whatever they can
A lady wiped his cold, bloodless feet with her hand
An old man tried his best to make him stand
New garlands were hung around his clay neck
Throngs of ignorant people come and bow down
Kiss and touch a man who is nothing more than a statue
A painted plain idol made of clay
An abomination and an insult
To the One who created night and day

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