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