A Space Creature
The night is like a cut
A cut of my strings
In the great puppet art
Of my dreams
I stumble around in a daze
A daze in my metered maze
My limbs again
My wooden dreams
My trapping parts
Of these puppet arts
These ties make me
My strings exceed me
As the puppeteer
As is me
In a paste of twine
A chreographed line
In dancing I would cut
Such that I as my dreams may dream
Of my great art of act of art
I am voiced in far off ventriquilisms
Far off in the shadows of color and prisms
There are no eyes here
The eyes echo in the shadows
They echo in the shadows
My lines are scripted
In a theater they are whispered
Of a dreaming dreamt dream
Of dreamers and dreams
I am a deformed muppet
A broken trumpet
A snipped string clings to my arm
It is still
It is the Sutradhara
The holder of strings
A marionette
Like the night
Cold in the age of robot space flightWww@QuestionHome@Com