The Puppet And The Puppeteer.

I have one story to tell.

A tale of a puppet and his puppeteer,

A story of bond, of friendship and of love,

An indifference to nature’s status quo, of letting go and moving on.

From town to town this puppeteer tours, going to another to entertain kids,

To find a crowd worthy to meet, his beloved puppet that which he cared.

This puppet of his, unique among other, who speaks, who acts like a man s’pose,

As if no strings hold it up to mimic his master.

They shared a bond more than a slave to his master, for the puppet was no slave at all.

The puppeteer thought it was a companion who he can share his thoughts, to only nod when ought to,

A reply only they understand that the puppet quietly enjoys,

They were a perfect match, a mind to think the joy and the will to show more.

As all seasons that walk them by, their audience grew even bigger,

A crowd so worth every penny of life, a joy untimely kept in spirit.

But as many laughs made, jeers proven wrong and cries to fade in smiles,

There’d come a time, alas, that very day of changing turns come by.

The puppeteer grew cold of his hands; his last crowd was amongst his demise,

And all his tattered puppet can do is follow a thought it never quite knew,

This saddened the puppet that didn’t do much an effort to will its best, at ruin did end.

They were two separate souls now, unbound at that sudden snap.

The puppeteer fends off the remaining frustration of an empty crowd.

Placed his puppet inside its box and went on.

The puppet was in query, its mind a boggle of thoughts, what am I to do!??

It slept for the entirety of the journey, never to wake again.

The puppet lay there sitting by the cupboard, webbed and old.

The puppeteer came just by to check it, unnerved but he knew how much his friend hurt.

And all the puppet can do is stare blank, sit still and do nothing more.

The puppeteer would lay its stare and turn as tears fall by.

They both felt the changing time, the puppeteer slowly crumbles to age, and so did the puppet to wreck.

Where was all the time of sharing smiles, of believing in joy!??

Where did that stain of colors and the jovial movements??

Who is this man that keeps staring at some toy, what was this toy all about!??

Life goes by, feelings come, and people pass away.

We tread a road to an unknown end, to only set goals at every stop.

So do our lives, we make the memories and the ideals we choose to live.

And what greater scuffle we have to be is between our heart and mind.

To know when to think for what’s good, to feel for what’s right.

To see things through that we don’t get what we want rather than what we need.

To know what is there to a friend, a lover and a foe.

To just keep living, let go and move on.