1000 Pulses

The window illuminates a cat-the snow falls, the wedding white colored sky is cut with the trees whose arms, fingers gather the immaculate flakes. On the chipped edge of the window, the sleeping cat is curled into its body like a ringworm, or the snake; if it rattles, raises its head to stick its face towards a sea of hesitation, the woman cannot extend her hand to touch the snake, nor comfort the cat. For when she touches, her shadow is split and spread as if it is sliced by the speed of 1 billionth of 1 billionth of a second: like the nanoparticles that rush to penetrate rock. The stones when crushed long ago became the sands of a time-worn shore of a tranquil Mayan-like Sea, that covered the entire Earth, until the Spirits decided to have the ocean recede and allow the Earth to birth lands that will collect footprints, no matter how fleeting. And the waters reflect the light of the "Heart-of-Sky" that released the quiet yearning snowfall, on an anxious Mid-winter afternoon.