Feral Cats and Gods

We've a short time to make it to the top. To climb the neck bones of our illusive God. A short time to scribe, knead, travel, paint, or crash land into a soul mate. Elevate to the next consciousness. Build your own rose petal nest. Life is a fiery sprint, a taste of earth a splash of mint. Where's the synergy of heart + soul. The silver sheen of youthful shoals. The antidote for hopelessness The patch over the sinkhole of the mind. The neck bone staircase has vanished into the clouds. Such a short time to weave warmth into life. To leave something profound, everlasting, behind. Something more than selfies and a jar of soon forgotten ashes. Such a short time to make it to the very top... The dream is fleeter than the dreamer, after all.