Por Fire

Tonight I was sitting on the toilet. Because that’s what sometimes one must do. When incarnated in a por away the dewcorporeal container. Here upon this planet.

And into the room, to perch in the doorway, came the kitten-cum-adolescent, Por. Who sat. He in a growth spurt. So his little front legs, so out of whack: like sticks, they be. His eyes meanwhile so big, and so round. Like those of all mystery. And so far back. Pierced onto me.

Against all instinct. All before-me experience. His eyes saying, unto me: I trust. I wonder. I want to be with you. I will. I will, love.

And this, this is why, this is why I know, that all, and all of this planet, and all upon it, shall Make It.

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