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  • differentlywired 42w

    The Invisible Doll-Maker

    A perpetual maelstrom,
    Constantly searching for an anchor,
    Clueless about who’s pulling the strings,
    Orchestrated by an invisible shape-shifting puppet-master, 
    The doll was once a man engulfed by his own shadows,
    Encapsulating a soul that imprisoned itself,
    Waiting for the song that could set it free,
    Hoping for the touch that could rekindle its spirit,
    Yearning for a life that time could not wear out,
    Groping for a way out of the concentric loops,
    Wondering what it means to be without objective,
    Thirsty for a drop of eternal inspiration,
    Its fluid dance never missing a pulse,
    Attempting to stir a quiver with its own rhythm,
    Awakening a crescendo that stops time in its tracks,
    Catching a glimpse of its reflection,
    On the edge where life and death are one,
    When stillness was indiscernible from motion,
    A delicate arc of resignation cuts across my wooden face,
    As I pull up the strings and smile at the hapless man in the mirror.