Mock Epic: The Glorious Folly Of Mortal Men Poem by ashok jadhav

Sing, O Mirror, polished judge of pride,
Of grand absurdities the heart calls truth,
When humans, crowned with reason's fragile wreath,
March bravely forth—misguided, loud, and sure.
In crowded halls and marketplaces wide,
The heroes gathered, armed with words and will,
Each certain that the cosmos bent its ear
To hear their every thought, profound and plain.
They strode like kings, though thrones were but their chairs,
And spoke as gods, though wisdom fled their tongues.
First came Proud Boast, with chest like swelling sail,
Who claimed great deeds no witness could confirm.
He told of battles won with effortless grace,
Of talents vast, of futures brightly crowned—
While Fate, behind him, stifled mocking laughs
And scribbled notes for later, harsher acts.
Then Gossip flew, a winged and tireless sprite,
From ear to ear she raced with sweetened lies,
Transforming whispers into thunderclaps,
And harmless truths to scandals richly dressed.
Empires fell not by sword, but murmured sound,
And friendships burned like straw before her breath.
Next marched Envy, green-eyed, sharp of sight,
Who measured joy by what belonged to others.
No gift sufficed if neighbors owned its twin;
No triumph pleased if shared by rival hands.
He smiled at praise yet tasted only gall,
Forever starving at a crowded feast.
Vanity arrived in gleaming robes,
Demanding mirrors at each turning point.
She paused to pose while moments hurried past,
And loved reflections more than living souls.
Time passed her by, unphotographed, untagged,
And left her youth a rumor, softly told.
At last came Reason, late and poorly dressed,
Ignored by all amid the splendid noise.
He cleared his throat—but Pride had seized the stage,
And Sense withdrew, defeated, into myth.
So ends the tale of mankind's comic march:
So grand in speech, so clumsy in its ways.
Yet laugh gently, O Reader—lest you find
Yourself a hero in this epic too.