I, the giant, lay dormant on my back staring upward.
It could have been a room, or a roof, or a sky unstarred.
Little voices, tiny hands, and all that bustles invisibly below.
Trying to surmount my pile of pillows, high up mattress bound.
From each of my four corners outstretched a grab here or there.
Tickle, tickle, grab, grab, at each one of a tiny hand pushed away.
Tenaciousness tiny children caught up in their ceaseless rude play,
On and on, till I could no longer find any hope of sleep or fit rest.
Each assault so easily frustrated, every time and again swept away.
This mighty Gulliver downed descended to observe persistent pests.
A mild shock to my sight of these rivals leading to an unsettled surprise.
Before to be staring bold face point blank into a doll’s empty blank eyes.
Devoid of a character, lacking all life, inanimate by nature, each
And as a giant, most unwilling aware, as a game goes, all
targets be fair.
Maybe this great wrangling universe should comfort one’s rights?
Provide with all safely to fend off all meaningless struggles and strife?
Like one’s long lost mother’s arms or a now absent father’s great might!
Instead of nibbling away from every corner disturbing the rest of each night.
Yet enigma’s don’t work that way for puzzle’s over time’s forever unsolved black blight.
Those endless why’s tossed over tpppled wherefore’s reason never fully evolved.
Just one caught up in the middle seeking to solve one’s own seething resolve