The
Catly Ghosts
Unearthed, lay the brittle bones,
with shards of torn flesh moulded to them.
Caricatures of what that being once was,
writhing, to escape that shallow grave.
A tortured soul had rotted and mellowed,
Yet—to begin again its earthly climb.
As the soul wafted through the heavy air,
it fought with itself regarding its destiny.
But found the futures that it sought,
in the finesse that had mellowed and risen.
The glory, of what it once was,
would not leave those moulded bones.
In ethereal grace rose the soul,
to meet those other lives—
of balanced symmetry and hidden past.
Forever—to seek the lands of freedom.
Yet the soul searched for shadowed sleekness,
and pounced on more brittle bones.
In
defined forms, they glided—
night creatures, hunting after the forbidden?
Untended flesh fell to their pounce.
Yet they were bound together, but apart,
the being of one seeking the other.
In earthly climb, they rise as one.
With power and beauty, to spiral and rest,
shadowing its feline grace with others.
Showing serenity in its superior subtlety.
Still seeking immortal beings.
Yet, unequaled in their purity and aloofness.
Infidels to their own—but true!
Forever, more bones would be unearthed,
Souls would rise in harmony.
To share that sense of infidelity,
that those gloried beings have.
Yet, as they rise, they rule—
now—the catly masters are here!