Blessed Are Sunbeams

The old world pulls him back as he drifts quickly through the door of reality, carried on the mighty wings of Morpheus Senses not dulled by millennia near the warm hearth of man, he stalks again the ancient landscapes of genetic memory Untamed heart beat quickens still in silent anticipation of the lost joys and glories of yore; the quarry, the hunt, the capture Sleepily, slowly, body lolling and rolling, fore limbs akimbo as if in prayer to the one who's radiance now warms his belly A plea, a pledge, a graceful dance of feline reverence; a perfect prayer to the only true God left in his now long tamed world Blessed are sunbeams, in the dreams of a cat