Fear. Weakness. Anger and apathy.
All but puppets in the hand of the “Master”.
Yet a paradox remains…
Who binds and plays the Master?
I am in control,
even when others
try pulling my strings.
Life is a show
And finally the line we all tow.
Like a puppeteer our strings
are held in a larger hand,
Time flowing like sand.
Destiny maybe prewritten,
It can be re written.
Think and act to change your path,
Drop the wrath, Be an empath !
Hands I control, there are many,
Willing and pulling them to do as I say,
Never thought I would be controlled by any,
Till I realized, an invisible master
would have their way.
Everyone just stringed along.
One sternly refused to prolong
this madness of powerlessness.
Rising from hopelessness,
rising against the one in control.
Tying the string around his wrist,
demanding back the leading role.
We are all but puppets
In our makers hands
Let’s not make anyone else powerful
By handing over our own strands.
The hands that you control,
May control you later.
Be wise to the strings you pull.
“There’s a bigger hand playing behind all this.”
As I am…
so are you..
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