Marionette

The puppeteer carefully caresses the strings of his marionette; gently tying and snipping the strings before hanging his 

fantoccini for the night, carefully keeping them straight, unknotted and ready for the show; making sure each line is kempt and strong .

For tomorrow his little dancer will dangle from the strings making swift and deft movements as the puppet master manipulates the strings bringing life to this listless little block of wood and strings.

Yet should one thread break or become tangled the life like show would stop and the vibrant, dancing creature would stop, become lifeless and dangle on the line that holds him captive; floating motionless on the black stage.

Broken, ruined, and worthless.

The Marionettes life is cruelly bound by the mere threads of his master; never free always tethered.

Tonight I am the puppet master in my own right; tying , carefully trimming the threads; making sure the show will be lively and seamless. For tomorrow I become the marionette.

The show must be flawless; for when the curtain falls the finale shall come and with my carefully tied thread I shall be put away; lifeless and empty the show is over