I used to hang from architraves in every home around this Universe.
They believed then…asked for my blessings for every pursuit and desire.
My followers would invoke my name in their misfortunes to change their
grey skies to blue, others would invite me to bestow wealth and add a
dash of flavour to their bleak lives. Whatever makes you happy.
Sometimes they would offer milk and homemade sweets and the smell would
fill me with satisfaction. Whether my idols belonged to beggars or
princesses I was worshipped from the shores of Atlantis to the red earth
of Mars. I would make people feel worthy… but all that is lost now. I
am forgotten from the hearts and minds of men. Just a whisper in the
zephyr in the summer heat. No more thoughtful devotees but broken metal
crosses in my stead. Sometimes I try to reach out to a faithful servant
of the old gods. I murmur fruitlessly in the wind, “Drink me and I will
make you grow.”
The copyright of this post belongs to Komal Patel
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