Past the Puppet Show

Here in this place it is the shadows we see
This world of confusion is an illusion
Demanding we embrace it desperately
A drama-queen illusion of confusion

And if it is real what does real really mean?

All I know is it never seemed real to me
Therefore I now find myself locked out of doors
Which were opened once for me respectfully
Or held for me on the way out of pity

I wonder if I could come knocking on yours

If I ever escape this unreal city
We could share the illusion of poetry
Wherein every word has been put in its place
So at least the confusion is orderly

I see something real in your heart by your face

Look past the illusion to see it in mine
We understand each other is all I know
I take our empathy as a hopeful sign
We might yet find meaning past the puppet show

Let us pull on their puppet strings as we go

They think they are the bosses bigshots and kings
These privileged pooh-bahs who reckon they rule
But they are only puppets dancing on strings
Looking important when the telephone rings

And each and every one of them is a fool

Here in this place it is the shadows we see
Shadows which would overshadow living things
But the spark in the dark is our empathy
Past the puppet show past the shadows we see

We might find in patches of light in between
What we mean by real and what we really mean

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII