The puppets dangle from the strings,
The puppets are here to dance,
Moving to every little movement
The puppeteer decides to make.
The puppeteer swings a thread,
Cuts another, and entwines two in one;
The puppets know not what is next,
For, there are no rules to this game.
They have no senses, but believe they do,
For the puppeteer is a master at this play.
To think with one end and survive with another,
That’s all there is to this silly little game!
And so thinking, the puppets dance and swing,
And say they have a life to lead;
Knowing not where they head
But knowing, exactly, what to do!
And then the great entertainer,
Starts pulling one puppet after another;
Whilst adding more and more,
Colorful little ones to the show!
The puppets roar and enjoy,
They fancy themselves being destined
To be the masters of smaller puppets;
Not knowing when their strings are going to be pulled.
Soon they start to protest the very idea,
Of a puppeteer above them;
Calling it a sham and a shame,
The very idea that all strings lead to one…
The puppeteer is humored,
For the puppets have been fooled
By joy and sadness – life and death,
By presence and absence – belief and chaos!
There is no telling when the show will end.
But as long as the “great one” is entertained
With the colors and varieties of the puppets,
The greatest show will go on…