A permanent poser for digital memories of uninterested
tourists
No longer he holds power over life & death,
poverty & wealth
Nor he can cure diseases or make rain
Behind the iron bars, he is just an
artifact of old days
Not long ago, thousands used to come to his
door for a glance of his magnificence
Kings used to bend their knees and offer
penance
But those days are long gone, lost between
his prolonged sleep and late awakening
Now he is no more omnipotent but just a God
of small things
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