Do we control life, or does life control us?
The minister in parliament thinks he does.
The ringmaster is proud, the lion is too.
The IT savvy thinks his computers do.
The wife, with the strings in her hands, believes it is she.
The husband power-drunk, thinks it is him; with patriarchy.
Life’s finite strokes go on till in the end, it hands us over to death.
Our controlling mechanisms melt and we struggle with it for breath.
I agree with John, God is in control. Excellent poem!
Love and blessings,
Linda+
Very thoughtful poem.
Ron