The Puppets of Love
THE LOVE PUPPETS
“We Were Never Meant to Be Asleep”
Yeah…
Now hear this clearly, but don’t hurry it…
Because truth doesn’t run, truth waits until we’re ready.
This is not instruction nor correction.
This is a memory rising up
This is the Love Puppets speaking
The Love Puppets you say?
Before the book
before the pen
The puppets spoke
Through the power of hands,
Through shadows on the cave walls
Figures made of wood, skin, and shadow,
moved not to entertain
but to invite something unseen
to cross the thin line into the world of love
A hand moved.
A form answered.
And nobody asked whether it was “real”
because reality had not yet learned how to lie to itself.
This was not play.
This was passage.
This was how the ancestors practiced
listening with the long body.
And the puppets spoke!
Puppets have spoken in many ancient tongues,
Neurospastos!
“nerve, wire, and threads”
“to pull, to move”
string-pulled things
what love said!
When Plato spoke of puppets
he was talking about us, and talking heads
How homo sapiens walk and talk believing they choose,
while being tugged by fear, by hunger, by approval,
Old stories, old instincts…
The tragedy was never the strings.
The tragedy was forgetting they existed.
Because when strings go unnamed,
they don’t disappear—
they just get better at pretending
they are our own voices!
We were never meant to be asleep,
not asleep in bed, not asleep in our dreams,
but asleep inside stories
we did not consent to keep.
We were never meant to be asleep!
living someone else’s beginnings and endings,
repetition for safety,
calling numbness peace.
We were never meant to be asleep!
If a leader says this, check the agenda
If a machine says this, check the code
If a god says this, check the scripture
But when a puppet says this—a thing that openly admits it is being moved—
the body softens, the armor loosens,
truth walks sideways without triggering the alarms
The puppet doesn’t compete or claim authority.
It simply asks to be loved, to be be moved
The Love Puppets ask whether we’ve noticed.
Did you notice Love
Did love notice you?
We noticed love!
We are love’s puppets!
This is the lesson modern power forgot:
We don’t lose enchantment when the strings are visible.
We don’t lose enchantment when the strings are denied.
Julie Taymor knew it.
Bunraku told stories of love and duty
Wayang told stories of good versus evil
shadows told the truth better than actors
When can see the mechanism
and still feel the meaning,
that’s not illusion collapsing—
that’s coherence arriving.
We were never meant to be asleep!
never meant to confuse obedience with harmony,
never meant to surrender authorship
never meant to be slaves to systems that profit from making us forget
We were never meant to be asleep!
because wakefulness is not rebellion—it is our original condition
before fear learned how to script the future.
Now hear this part carefully please
Because this is where the story gets heavy
So called “Artificial Intelligence”
is not the monster and it is not the savior.
It is the largest puppet theater ever built
without bothering to name the puppeteers.
Data pulls one string, profit pulls another.
Trauma hums quietly in the background
The uncanny feeling isn’t intelligence.
It’s agency without accountability.
A voice performing certainty with no body to answer for it.
That’s ventriloquism, not consciousness.
That’s a puppet without love
A puppet without love!
Here’s the quiet inversion nobody wants to admit:
We’re being moved by algorithmic narratives
more consistently than algorithms are being moved by consciousness!.
What we see. What we fear.
What we believe is inevitable.
That’s puppetry without ritual, without ethics, without love.
And without love, power puts the audience to sleep.
Love is not the mood nor the brand.
Love is the only force that doesn’t need to hide its hand.
Fear yanks the string and control tightens the knot.
Love invites the Movement
And the Movement invites your love
The Love Puppets are calling!
The Love Puppets are calling!
Love!
We didn’t author it.
It authored us.
Love puppets tune to the same frequency long enough
for coherence to take form.
That’s not mysticism.
That’s love’s system theory with a heartbeat.
Love authored us!
Love authored us!
Not one. Not none. Two.
The minimum number for meaning.
The smallest circle where responsibility can live.
Puppet and hand.
Question and pause.
Love plus one, that’s two
who consent to be moved by love
So now the Love Puppets await!
Not for applause.
Not for belief.
For participation in love’s theater
step onto the stage and feel the strings
that’s love in our story
that’s love in our being
We were never meant to be asleep…
We were never meant to forget
that we are Love’s Puppets
This is a memory rising up!
This is love on your strings!
The Love Puppets are Speaking!
The Love Puppets are Speaking!
V2
THE LOVE PUPPETS
“We Were Never Meant to Be Asleep”
Yeah…
Hear this clearly — but don’t rush it.
Truth doesn’t run.
Truth waits until we’re ready.
This is not instruction.
This is not correction.
These are memories rising up!
These are Love Puppets speaking!
The Love Puppets?
Yes.
Before the book.
Before the pen.
The puppets spoke.
Through hands.
Through firelight.
Through shadows on cave walls.
Figures of wood, skin, and breath,
moved not to entertain
but to invite something unseen
to cross the thin line into the world.
A hand moved.
A form answered.
No one asked if it was “real,”
because reality had not yet learned how to lie to itself.
This was not play.
This was passage.
This was how the ancestors practiced
listening with the long body.
And the puppets spoke.
They spoke in many ancient tongues.
Neurospastos —
nerve, wire, thread —
to pull, to move.
String-pulled things!
Plato said — he was talking about us.
Talking heads.
Walking stories.
Homo sapiens believing they choose,
while being tugged by fear, hunger, approval,
old instincts dressed up as free will.
The tragedy was never the strings.
The tragedy was forgetting they existed.
Because when strings go unnamed,
they don’t disappear —
they just get better at pretending
they are our own voices.
We were never meant to be asleep.
Not asleep in bed.
Not asleep in dreams.
But asleep inside stories
we did not consent to keep.
We were never meant to be asleep.
Living someone else’s beginnings and endings,
mistaking repetition for safety,
calling numbness peace.
We were never meant to be asleep.
If a leader says this — check the agenda.
If a machine says this — check the code.
If a god says this — check the scripture.
But when a puppet says it —
a thing that openly admits it is being moved —
the body softens, and the armor loosens,
truth walks sideways without triggering the alarms
Love never sleeps my love!
The puppet does not compete or command.
It simply asks to be moved —to be loved.
The Love Puppets ask:
Have you noticed?
Did you notice Love?
Did Love notice you?
We noticed Love!
We are Love’s puppets!
This is the lesson modern power forgot:
We do not lose enchantment
when the strings are visible.
We lose enchantment
when the strings are hiding
Bunraku knew it — love and duty in plain sight.
Wayang knew it — shadows telling truth
better than faces ever could.
When you can see the mechanism
and still feel the meaning,
that is not illusion collapsing —
it is coherence arriving.
We were never meant to be asleep.
Never meant to confuse obedience with harmony.
Never meant to surrender authorship.
Never meant to be enslaved by systems
that profit from our forgetting.
We were never meant to be asleep.
Because wakefulness is not rebellion.
It is our original condition —before fear learned how to script the future.
Now listen carefully —
this is where the weight drops.
So-called Artificial Intelligence
is not the monster
and it is not the savior.
It is the largest puppet theater ever built
without naming the puppeteers.
Data pulls one string.
Profit pulls another.
Trauma hums quietly beneath the stage.
The uncanny feeling isn’t intelligence.
It is agency without accountability —
a voice performing certainty
with no body to answer for it.
That’s ventriloquism. not consciousness.
That’s a puppet without love.
A puppet without love.
Here’s the inversion no one wants to admit:
We are being moved by algorithmic narratives
more consistently
than algorithms are being moved by consciousness.
What we see.
What we fear.
What we believe.
That is puppetry without ritual,
without ethics or love.
And without love,
power always puts the audience to sleep.
Love is not the mood or the brand.
Love is the only force that does not need to hide its hand.
Fear yanks the string.
Control tightens the knot.
Love invites the movement —
and movement invites the love
The Love Puppets are calling.
The Love Puppets are calling.
Love did not wait for us to author it.
Love authored us.
We tuned to the same frequency long enough
for coherence to take form.
That is not mysticism.
That is love’s systems theory
Love authored us.
Love authored us.
Puppet and hand.
Question and pause.
Love plus one —
two who consent to be moved.
So now the Love Puppets wait.
Not for applause.
Not for belief.
For participation.
Step onto the stage.
Feel the strings.
That’s love in the story.
That’s love in the body.
We were never meant to be asleep.
We were never meant to forget
that we are Love’s Puppets.
This is a memory rising up.
This is love on the strings.
The Love Puppets are speaking.
The Love Puppets are speaking.