Puppetdipity
In the absence of essence there’s puppet
As there is no lawn but grass
In the waning of wanting there’s haunting
As there is no fuel but gas
What makes the hand move the puppet
A trick we treat so dear
What makes Human into Muppet
But a mater of maker with fear
Coming to conscious is creative
A construct of cunning with care
As paper dries hard to resemble
That which not longer can tear
The struggle for strings is an old one
The feeling to fight or to flee
We’ve chosen a path of liberation
In absence world we want to see
And if the new head on our shoulders
Needs think of the next way to fight
With props puppets and people
We’ll brazen that dawn of new night
