Ascension

Humans never evolved to see through the darkness like cats. My furry friend Simba was almost seventeen when he passed away from cancer. The journey with a pet is never life-long enough. When words are mistaken as emotions it makes grief unstable.  Pets on missing signs stimulate my right hemisphere. I carved his heart over mine in my mind and sometimes the scar is bloodshot and other times it is barely visible. The soft violence of time is consuming the earth but it moves me closer to those that I know who have beaten me to the light. Only clouds and people have torrents of tears, and when he died it turned my eyes into monsoons for weeks during the dry season. Wrestling with the notion of how a cat could possibly catch a fish to eat, I remember there is swordfish and a pen fish and it makes me ponder whether the pen fish is mightier than the swordfish or vice versa? Unsurprisingly veterinarians have one of the highest rates of suicide of any profession. find myself in a grave new world. The heaviness of gloom varies daily but I remember Simba is napping in the afterlife on top of a step pyramid as Egyptians worship him, fan him, and stand ready with trays of treats. He waits for my ascension.