Angel wakes at 4:30 am, and like an ninja assassin, treads lightly on my sleep, exercising his claws on my chest, then sits, then lies, watching my consciousness stirring back to life. "Heya...", I said telepathically. Angel nods and replies, "It's time". I get up and open the door, and he promptly sneaks out. I'm back on my bed, shifting gears in dreamland when Halo comes in later in the morning. She finds my legs under the covers and promptly uses them as her pillow, shielding her eyes from the morning light with her paws. I remember when they were kittens. Another hour and I'll wake.
The heart is a strange thing. It is a hard disk with seemingly unlimited storage space, cluttered and choke full of stuff, both remembered and forgotten. Once something happened, it's there. Cut it up and it creaks open like an ancient door with rusted hinges, and there's a rabbit hole, much like the one depicted in Alice in Wonderland. The natural instinct is to fall. It's a scary flight down the rabbit hole, but you'll soon get used to the gravity of it all; at the end of it, you'll find a pinhole of light that opens into a continuous universe of twinkling stars. The silent nature of each thought, of each experience is right here, within us.
I remind myself to slow my thoughts down so that when I fall,
I'll catch myself and find that pinhole of light.
Break on through to the other side...