Columbus' Cat

It’s not just the sea, not just the sails and the stars,
and the glint of the ocean’s endless curves—  
but a cat lying as the waves rolled beneath,  
a creature of both home and journey,  
with eyes that saw nothing but endless blue,  
its paws tracing the brilliance of ancient myths.

It’s not just the man with the compass,
who first felt the weight of fate,  
it was the cat, the quiet hunter of moonbeams,  
who dreamed of shores unseen.  

For the cat, no continent to claim,  
no flag to raise,  
only the fleeting whispers of humans’
only the promise of endless blue,  
as it nestled in the white grains of the stars.


The Fluttering of the Brown Antechinus  

When dusk gathers in the underbrush,  
a slight tremor scatters the shadows.  
It’s not the rustle of leaves, but a whispered secret,  
coming from unseen corners of the wild.  
A small brown figure flits between branches,  
its tiny paws tapping a broken drumbeat,  
a dance of wild, violent energy.  

It's wrestling with the invisible wind
to untie the kinked winds, the sinews of the angel's thigh.
It is reaching for fleeting fortune,  
to prove itself the chosen of supreme power.  

A moment stretches into cosmic light-years,  
a streak of brightness crossing countless constellations.  
Its life is but a brown photon,  
quietly resting on a leaf before dawn’s arrival,  
still swaying with the frost upon the leaf;  
content with fate, indifferent to good or evil,  
even as the traces of its existence will slowly fade away.