Your Russian Blue is not crazy when she
somersaults off the armchair to run, run
run down the
... [+]
The first day of his life on earth began,
when a spark of magic from his soul ran
out from under his feet, and what a joy it was
to be lifted away from the quicksand of defeat.
And,
his eyes fixated in a state of bewilderment,
as the mirror looked up at him from the palm of
his hand.
Just as the leaves kiss the ground, in one of the
sweetest, yes, the sweetest sounds.
So was the sound of the lengths of his hair, falling
from the clippers, surrendering to the air.
And,
his frown now a coastal smile,
as the mirror looked up at him from the palm of
his hand.
Soon he exclaimed to the heavens a hearty rejoice,
that it wasn't long before baritone is what
would become of his voice, and love would see
him through, past the windows of blue,
onto
a new chest, like that of a flatland,
a garden on his chin, and,
and—
oh how one could imagine the feeling
like the lotus flower unveiling its
petals for the very first time, or
like the rain that's been falling and
now finally giving up the battle, to give way for
the sun to shine again. For the sun to shine again,
and
to wear courage like a cloak and be oneself,
after what seemed like forever and
then some of wanting to be almost
anything else.
oh,
the courage drifts through the air, like melodies from
a hummingbird, playing softly in your ear;
gone away are the tears,
gone away are the fears
and as a mantra, they say
done away, done away,
done away, done away.
The first day of his life on earth began
when a touch of magic from his heart ran
upwards to his mind, creating a light divine.
And
what a cathartic release, to break free from misery and
for his whole being to play double dutch with the universe,
as the angels look on, unified in song,
‘My, how proud we are of that man.'