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
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