The puppet tugging at destiny: A poem 

I woke up amid 

the strings of the universe 

and felt like a puppet. 

How should I never take a bow 

between two ends? 

And feel the means is God 

wedded to a cause 

because He is universal subordination and vulnerability 

And my legs stretched 

and my arms did too 

and I spun and pirouetted much more than any roulette  

elasticising all seams 

without snapping them 

but entrapping the conspirators 

And the sky gained ground 

and the earth gravitated the sky 

like there was neither ceiling nor floor 

but only space’s echo 

It was as if the relentless ends 

became flatulent like comets 

moving in a void, losing steam 

and becoming nothing themselves in the void  

And the puppet began to tug at destiny….