Limp marionettes hanging on a dingy theater wall
Waiting the master hand to give them birth,
Calling from dangling limbs the dance of mirth
That holds expectant youthful eyes in thrall,
And for awhile makes children of us all.
These big eyed dolls, fashioned of tree and earth
Have without help no creature life, no self worth,
They only wait. For others' aid they cannot call.
I need no strings to move, My soul is free!
The choice is mine for good or ill. Success or
Failure mine. Without help I proudly stand,
Shall I give or simply take? It's up to me.
Money? Success? Fame? No! I want much more -
To live complete I choose the master's hand.