My cat is cleaning herself in the living room, on the carpet. It is rainy here.
I am alive
ain't that a mystery
how without clinging
we can fly?
how without wishing
we are born?
how we love
against all odds and other choices?
I am alive
and although I feel like crying
the mystery swallows all
and my tears are turned into butter
for the heart spreading on the toast
each and every day
God makes me stay