a poem I wrote in 2022, still consider it to be a work in progress but I thought i’d add it to the archive here ‘for the record’:
string theory
Puppets all, we dance in response to the Master’s might
Who pulls the theoretical strings so tight
His Piper’s tune makes us gyrate and cavort
But His efforts often seem to come to naught
For entanglement is ever the puppet’s fate
In a fleeting lifetime we learn too late
A folly here, a failure there
One thing’s but true, life is not fair
For some may have, while others don’t
And some may give, if that’s their wont,
But those who take and hoard or squander
While many starve should make us ponder
Yet we too, sipping coffee, eating cake
Know others die with every bite we take
“It’s not our fault” we bleat, and cry
“We’d never wish that anyone might die”
So, how much is a ticket worth
In this random lottery of birth?
And what is the Puppet Master’s role
But to make us dance to save our soul
Still we choose to prance and play the fool
Ever failing to live by a simple Golden Rule
We flail about and cling to everything we’ve got
Spinning round together in one material knot
For the Lord of the Dance may pull our strings
But it is we who must learn how to earn our wings.
