Yet Another Legend

A poem by Achuthan Panikath

Tue Mar 31 2026

A secret to kill for, to fight for years,
A million deaths - just a trivial payment to seers.
A secret to die for, in pride and glory,
Though none would ever hear the true story.
The legend speaks of a certain day,
When a woman with the power of divine sway,
Led a charge to rewrite the world’s bland past,
And began to chant the worst spell ever cast.
A beauty she was, all dressed in white,
With eyes that spoke of every star at night.
Her smile sent the waves crashing to rocks;
Every wink seemed to bless each lad she mocks.
With her mane to the winds, at an elegant pace,
She strode to the river in the midst of the maze.
Every ripple tore the stream to a million shards,
To reflect a misty sky, held dear by the bards.
With every word she spoke, the darkness grew,
To leave a blood red moon, in a night now new.
The river and sky in a race to dark;
Silence pierced ears, with a note too stark.
Accursed with beauty, but a rock-hard heart,
She cursed mankind- and hence love did start.
But for every evil in her, was a good untouched,
And so she spoke that let not all be brushed.
And so began the wars on love,
With a heavy heart, new history did bow.
Wars and deaths- an act so spread,
None had time to count the dead.
But the legend knows that all wars were held,
For a love that grows to lust, it’s beheld.
The love for raw power, the love for pure glory,
The love for a day that all spoke of their story.
No wars would wage, had love not lived,
Not within nor against foes, men believed.
But no life too would rave, in this true way,
Had she cursed not this blessing, to forever stay.
‘Every spec of pain’, the legend says,
‘Is a lovely gain, that one could never guess.
Every curse is a blessing, if viewed at night,
At the bliss of a journey, given in the light.’
With the message conveyed, I sorely confess,
The myth of the legend, and not leave it to guess.
Every legend, is always a story of today,
Set in the past, and mystical in a way.
My legend is indeed a story of today,
How the dread of a lifetime had tried to sway
My faith in love and hope in life,
How the handsome damsel, ‘cursed’ my life.
Years hence from now, this fable would too,
Be yet another legend, supposedly true.
It’s always easier to learn from a mythical beast,
That, not every night would you be given a feast.