Puppet Master

Further conjurings of madness

There was a puppet master here before

He left some of his things,

And now he's at the door

Watching, listening, and making string,

To animate various puppet things

Amusements only seen in dreams,

Should such infamous things scour dreams

As might be befitting a man of wooden things,

Proudly he whistles in the dark

When not a single moment is lost,

Though were you to see him

You might conjure images of a slave pounding alabaster,

For this was his wife at another time

Though dead, her essence lives with him still,

Some even say that she animates his hands

While he animates the joints of his puppet things,

The circle of life goes on unbroken

Even were you to blow smoke in his eyes,

He would just smile with a strange laugh

And go on with his work just as before.

An industrious man, only partially sane

Nothing less, nothing more