My Meeting With The Puppeteer Poem by Naveed Akram

There was a long silence,
That I drank gratefully, facing the Prince;
Then I came to the wooden legs
Of a puppet trained in silver and gold.
It shone graciously, dropping hands,
With no food or water, demanding its
Return to non-existence.

I came to my senses,
It was theatre, and I was the guest
For the violent audience,
Stepping across a stage of desire,
Drinking gratefully the applause,
A terrible picture was envisaged
By the outstanding onlookers.

The puppets were in front of me,
And I was in front of them,
Part of the actions and acts
Of a life memorable;
In this theatre of rooms so obvious,
I had strayed into the arms of
A puppet-show.