Living becomes a mistake when you’re a pair of recently born
kittens meowing in abandonment, in search for a love they have never been introduced to, a love that oils and fuels the gears within their wondrous body and weary bones, a
love that revives and welcomes them, shooing away their agonizing hunger.
I saw them squeaking, and I heard them moving as they beg
and come knocking at the ever might’s door. Could it be that it’s bad karma?
Hell at it’s own form seen through the eye of reincarnation?
I tried giving them milk, but what is it to them? It’s
merely liquid poured into a cap of a juice bottle given by a monster bigger
than them. A monster, hundreds of times they’re size - bloated with things
they’ve never got to learn, consume, and experience.
They actually received care, but they didn’t know what it
is. They didn’t know that it could shower them with life.
For care is not necessarily love, and love doesn’t always
mean that one must care.
We’re all born ignorant, and so I retreated. Through the
walls they continue crying, piercing me with guilt for there’s nothing I can
do. I have never been a cat person, but this is also a form of unrequited love.
It’s a less egotistic form, one that’s actually worth thinking about. The
wailing slowly dumbs down, and I silently wish them a rest in peace, in the
holy heavens above with flowing rivers of nutritious milk.
To their mothers, I wish you could have known better but I
understand that you’re just a cat and I am not felinely enlightened.
To those with bad karmas, we shall all get through it.
And to the egotistic, I am also sad and ashamed of myself.
My human form disgusts me.
Yet another mindless morose rant from yours truly. Happy Sunday!
