The Puppeteer

The Puppeteer long poem

Photo by moggs oceanlane


I read, I play, I live, I laugh, I smile
I curse, I bless, then I feel something,
and I stop and start thinking for a while,
that whatever is going on, in me, or on the outside,
is it my fate? my destiny? Anyone’s fate? Anyone’s destiny? should I just take it in my stride?
Or Wait…should I just realise…. Maybe the world works as plain mathematics,
Pie charts, bar graphs and schematics,
We don’t have any control, it flows like a river with boats which we can’t steer,
We are just puppets for that being, and he is our puppeteer….

permutations and combinations, diagrams and schematics, all by him/her….
Decides what we will be, are and were,
Our life is like a puppet show, with the audience and the performers mesmerized with the complexities, happiness and sorrows,
And maybe, behind the curtain, the hidden one plays with his mesh of ropes deciding our today’s and tomorrow’s…

I imagine, he may be smiling, while he plays with our lives, but I hope he does not,
Cause for him/her, while it may just be a test, an entertainment, a happy or a sad story plot,
But for the puppets enmeshed by his ropes, it is not

Each of the puppets are meager beings for the hidden one and they perform hard to please him often praying in fear,
trying to be the selected one, for the so called almighty, but who is just a “puppeteer”.

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The Puppeteer

The Puppeteer short poem

Photo by Ungry Young Man I read, I play, I live, I laugh, I smile I curse, I bless, then I feel something, and I stop and start thinking for a while, that whatever is going on, in me, or