Who is the puppeteer who pulls the strings;

who is the master makes us do these things?

Who tells us that that path is our way

then pulls us back if we go astray?

What is the reason for walking their trail

and how dare they then tell us we fail?

Really their way is so set in stone

That only in cracks has anything grown.

The cracks don’t follow reason or rhyme

so are they guilty of some heinous crime?

I think that a crack seems a nice way to be,

just wandering off where you can feel free.

The crack would entangle the masters tight string;

so  being cracked may mean that we can be free!

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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