Puppets

They rise and fall,
And rise again..
To laugh and cry
In joy or pain,
In summer heat or winter rain!

They fly in dream,
On clockwork wings...
One puppet talks,
Another sings,
While the old Master pulls the strings!

They love and hate,
They kiss and fight...
They spend, they save,
To their delight,
Aware of life through day and night!

Till on the stage,
The Master sore,
Cuts off their strings
In mystic lore,
And they will fall to rise no more!

by Alfred Palma

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