The puppeteer
And his strings
In the realm where shadows softly fall,
A story unfolds, a somber, haunting thrall,
the puppeteer’s strings, a tale to be told,
Of lives controlled, by forces, unseen, untold.
Within this stage of life, a puppeteer’s art,
Weaves destinies, and plays every part,
Marionettes, we are, in this grand design,
Controlled by strings, invisible, yet so divine.
We think we’re free, that we hold the reigns,
Yet the puppeteer’s fingers guide our joys and pains,
Invisible hands, their grip so tight,
Manipulating our choices, day and night.
We dance through life, with steps so neat,
Yet our every move, the puppeteer’s to complete,
Invisible threads, that pull and sway,
Dictate our actions, night and day.
We laugh, we cry, we love, we fear,
But it’s the puppeteer’s whims we hold dear,
Unseen forces, a masterful disguise,
Shape our existence, to their own surmise.
Oh, “The Puppeteer’s Strings,” they weave a grand scheme,
Invisible, intangible, like a haunting dream,
We’re marionettes in this theater of fate,
Manipulated, controlled, by a force so great.
But can we break free, from these strings that bind?
To discover the truths, deep within our mind,
To see through the veil, of the puppeteer’s deceit,
And in our own destiny, take a seat?
For though the strings may pull and sway,
We possess the power to find our own way,
To break the chains, of unseen control,
And reclaim the essence, that makes us whole.
In “The Puppeteer’s Strings,” we find our plight,
But within ourselves, lies the strength to fight,
To transcend the grasp, of those unseen hands,
And in the theater of life, take our own stand.
So, let us examine this feeling profound,
Of being controlled, of being bound,
By “The Puppeteer’s Strings,” we may find the key,
To set ourselves free, and truly be.
For in the dance of life, we are not mere pawns,
We have the power to break these bonds,
To shape our own destiny, to rise and soar,
And in the end, be masters, forevermore.
