Portals

Sunday, December 21, 2014

From the Tribe of Cat

...so many moons. Funny to think the kittens I once had became cats. They were my friends; they passed in time. Now even as a cat -living in the Imperial Domain- it is strange to think the idols, stars, and entertainers seem to come and go without real impact on the world. They speak of substance, but how much substance can be derived from disingenuous sources that know no more of the real world and love than they say they are aware every moment of their lives? Is this why you prefer not my paw to the pawing of a collective that sees you no more than vanity and possession?

Oh Bastet (or so I shall call  you), if you exist why do you punish me so. You have no need to be anything other than what you are. All love is insane, but only badly if it is not met with the same level of insanity. I watched you dance -horribly, but not more horribly than I have danced...as if life is not one insane dance.

And insanity -how could one not be considered insane to have either wanted or experienced so much? Who really cares for weekends or fleeting moments when what you want are fairytales -really lived- that last through the four cycles of life until by death we wait to hold hands and touch lips beyond the pale. My darling, I feel cold. For it seems this incarnation of mine is no more of anything than for each time my hand reaches into empty space wanting to know you are there. Why should we sell the thing we are if we are only seen as an animal?

Going through the motions: painting, writing,...trying to convince an entirely cold-hearted and fleeting world that I am not what it thinks me to be(nothing) any more than my whiskers help me to see at night, only holding for balance of a shape that resembles a vessel of limited proportions.

Milk? No, only for baths. Whiskey? No, only for loneliness and when I feel the need to push for a danger that is more imitative than the passing layers of thought within mind. Oh my beloved cat friend, how I miss you. The way you looked, the way you would purr, the way you sat upon my shoulder thinking me the throne of your untamed world. And it was, and I was just a student of wild things drapped under a skin that was no more mine than the breathes...that left me speechless.

Looking to your centuries, I wondered how many incarnations you went through in a lifetime -perhaps to appease a world that would say it loved you, but, never did. Am I insane to be whatever you want, when I am not sure what you want, but the entire world of our history would claim to say that we are the wonder of loving insanity. And, I thought I just lived. Even upon the chess board of life we all lay our pieces down when we have mastered the slavery of our own self-imposed weariness.

I'd settle for a world of catnip of your love that never ran out than all the printing paper those who walk supposedly upright call money.

Yes, you are still the catnip to my lips, eyes, and mind. Warhol may have stated that those never met are better than those had -but, I hate that and disagree with it. I have no wish to be plastic and lay here in imaginary silk while you wear an invisible crown.

If I am insane for loving you then, we both know the truth of loving each other insanely was the very reason we loved -and, loved one another.