-by Keith Schied
Vision of a
Man
With puppet
strings in hand
Playing with
us all
Cannot be
seen with ordinary sight
Some sense
his presence and put up a fight
Some set
free to pursue their plight
Others are
dragged and set in his path
Many are
damaged and suffer his wrath
Pulled up by
him
And devoid
of all breath
Some call it
passing, he calls it death
He sets you
aside to learn of your past
And back
down you go
With fresh
strings at last
New ideas of
wrong and right
Your
stubborn old soul still puts up a fight
Eventually,
you know of the ends of your strings
The man in
which holds you
And the
lessons he brings
Times will
change and when soil is grown
You’ll
have a puppet
A puppet of your own.
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