The Puppet

Tiny puppet crafted from wood
Hanging by my many strands
A puppeteer masterful and skilled
Controls my moves with his hands

The curtains slowly opened
Revealing a very colourful set
I moved to his every wish
As the play lines were read

As the story slowly unraveled
I started to believe it was true
That I was the star of the story
Its creator, its director, its hero

I lived the fantasy that I created
Taking actions, becoming stronger
Experiencing the character’s life
Just a puppet I was no longer

Then suddenly with no warning
The strings were cut and I began to fall
Into the unknown darkness below
Weak, defenseless and not in control

With a thud I landed on the floor
The applause set the stands on fire
As the curtain hit the stage
I lay there….broken…

17/4/06

 

Photo courtesy of Sou (www.sou-varne.com)

~ by Juka on December 10, 2006.