Thursday, August 18, 2011
He was on water, in misfortune,
Inwardly, his situation seemed hot and sticky;
But, closer to death, a line was drawn to succeed,
Making somersaults in the air,
Mastering the old gold from forgotten gold,
Lakes of purity were upon him.
He had bitten the mouse of alacrity,
As a cat he was human enough.
The light grew closer to the body
As a clever feline animal was apt to
Be an art of stealth.
Breathing very slowly was astounding,
In this traffic we blessed him.