From Puppet to Master
At the mercy of your whim
I feel naught but shame
Within my soul for the passion
Lost,
And bitterly weep at
The insurmountable cost of
Being with you.
Now
The word “me” does not exist,
Nor the word “we”.
Because now it’s the master and his puppet,
So blindly yielding to the strings.
And then a pristinely white ophidian
Gazed down on this me,
The puppet.
Supernovas and implosions from
Inside me came and then…
I had ascended into the place
The Universe meant;
Mistress,Queen…
And PUPPETEER!
