Randhir's Poem

FIGURES IN THE DARK

We are your shadow-puppets of the dark
We wear the cloak of the night
Projected by paper lantern lights,
cast on screen for your play tonight.

If by chance a moment free,
from a trap within this frame we are in,
escaping from this tiny screen,
our images shall thus scatter,
to avoid this puppet film .

For now, we move at the puppeteer’s will,
shackled to his strings,
cut-out figures in a puppeteer dream,
seamless figures, for it seems,
to perform in this twilight scene.

Stuck between day and night,
caught in between the dim and the bright
Some form of life the puppet master brings,
when he moves us with his strings.

As we be blind to what is wrong or right
All be caught and strung upright
As the puppet master indulges in his game,
he leaves us dangling on his frame.

How then can we ever free ourselves,
trapped between his heaven and his hell.
But this show, as all shows must at some time end,
then we lie still, lifeless on his stage.....A poem written by my ancient classmate and friend Randhir in Melbourne. Well done Randy, do keep on composing.