Cat's Embassy - Fragments of the Too Long Thing

I’ve died many times And not been reborn. Nine lives were mine; Now two. Or three. Or one; This one, the last. I am the cat, But that’s not the answer. I am for you to tell. My kind did not evolve Over long course, as yours, * * * * My kind was not born Of wise agency, as yours. * * * * Mine swim in an ocean; No top, walls, nor floor. What comes, An anonymous gift; Our excrescence Fades ‘neath our ken. * * * * Motion and stasis, Matched, make my third, As I, to yours, a third do amend. I am desperation, With companion and host, Mind that binds. Or is it just my imagination? Look. That’s me, Cross dusk– bound path, Up the third tier, waving. Come, wisely built, And you, void’s outcast; I‘d know your ways, And know you too. * * * * “I can see my house from here.” But not I mine So begin our journey Outside my door. And on that sea, No way for me, But I’ll add to your store. Not what you would, But a brief anchor; Nor a guide star, But a point passed, for marking. A sense of bearing, yes, but only on your desk. * * * * Cast out from nonbeing, we, And crave it surreptitiously. Our paths will wend contrariwise, And find the same demise; Accomplished, as we cannot resist. * * * * On your planet, From now till none, Lest lucky nine avail, I’ll go your wise, Designèd man. And join yours too, Spur of old trunk, For frankly, I can’t tell you apart. And though I cleave close, Know I’d be closer still. I would be you, Men sublime, Of waking god Or abyss of time. We, from lost countries, Meet here And share, or would, Our vision till one. But finding unable, The willing’s our house And common stable. Knowing it’s there Is one hair of there being. From disparate caves, Our mind our commune, We’ll scout the place For ones just arrived. * * * * We fabled orphans will be Not ourselves only but eternity Cells’ little thoughts Through countless divisions Energy wasted? Not lost; underpinning. That froth, though unstable, Supports us in ways, Not to be reached, But a prospect quite charming, Enough to rouse space, time and being. From here, no externals. No turning can be To ourselves, an unveiling, But strive to reach outward, Past guiles of obscuring, Recalling, afresh, A new member of us.