Gift Of Life Poem by Sharm Siva

The puppetmaster tired over his creation
His hands daubed crimson
Letting no trials wane his endeavor
Not the fiery temper of the Seville-toned sun
Nor the forlorn visage of the mustard moon
He worked
And he worked
Till his chef-d'oeuvre was whole

The marionette wore a smile
But lacked animation
No feeling
No authencity
No life
'To you I bestow this boon'
The puppeteer preached
'..the breath of life, a part of my soul'
A bolt of radiance came crashing from the skies
And stroke the puppet it did,
With the gift of life

The puppetmaster flipped open
An octavo, ashen with age
To bless his puppet with distinctiveness
He chose
'Entrancing'
'Joyful'
'Symphonic'
And embraced his puppet
With the touch of love

'You will join the others now'
The puppeteer teared
'In an epoch named Life'

The puppet now masked in
A cape of qualm,
Questioned
'What is Life? '
His innocence unyielding

'Life is
The grace of a lily, blooming in ivory
The harmony of raindrops, trickling on the pane
The warmth of a mother, embracing you tight
The amiable smile, bringing you light'

'Life is
The thorns that prick your finger red,
The fall you take, the step you missed,
The melancholy of a goodbye,
The frowns that make you sigh'

'Life is beautiful. Life is ugly'
The puppet looked bewildered
'What can I expect then, Master
from this
So Called Life?

'Nothing. And everything'
The puppetmaster laughed

'Go now son
For Life awaits you'

'And remember
Your Father
Who is always here
Watching over you'