You have to be Deep
to
dig
Deep,
like a well
that
goes
down
into
your
soul.
Shoveling Souls
is a rare profession
because
it’s an invisible art
like the emperor
with no clothes.
People don’t invest
in what’s not there.
Faith,
Value,
and Dreams
are only dust
scattered by the wind.
The eternal profession is the one I want—
an investment, that never blows away
and like the invisible wind
it must be a force
that moves ships
like a hurricane.
It isn’t enough
to be calm, to be
becalmed.
I must know the power
within
shocking me
with
ideas
that
can’t be seen.
I worship the beaten cat
with ear torn off
hit by a car
and bleeding
inside.
When his organs fail
something
keeps it alive—
a style that smiles at death.
It doesn’t live for approval
or need other cats.
Perhaps, nature has selected it for extinction
because it’s too big to sit-on human laps
it’s not cute
its balls are too big
it doesn’t purr when petted
Children stare at it
in prehistoric picture books
It walks in the moonlight
and the firelight
It walks wherever it wants
It’s valuable, for its diamond eyes
It’s wilder
than anything.
That’s why nature knew it was a contender
and tried to knock it out
in the first round
but it goes the distance, anyway.
How does a cat like that
come back
from a beating like that?
What keeps you alive?
Your heart.
How do you know?
Your mind.
The beaten cat lives forever
because it hunts the human soul.
Thanks for the share, Charlie!!!
LikeLike