Each morning we awake
to greet a brand new day.
Each night we go to bed
and the day just fades away.
Everyday in our lives
is like an unturned page
and we are merely puppets
on its enormous stage.
We are guided along paths,
shown the right way to go
as the unturned page get written on
from dawn t dusk
by someone’s guiding hand.
When they’ve finished writing,
we go to bed at night
and sleep until the morning light.
Then a new unturned page appears
waiting for us to travel on.
1 June 2008
What a lovely thought David, to be written down on a clean page each day. Sweet write. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
and we are merely puppets on its enormous stage. ...................................... And St. Paul speaks: We cathedrals of the twisted spirit! The god unless also has not given us good will, what not a puppet life? Thank you....... Sincerely, Tsira
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a lovely thought David, to be written down on a clean page each day. Sweet write. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX