1. How strange is the cat, with her constant toil
She caught a seed and brought it to the chicks

2. Then dug for it in the crevices
From a faraway land, for a mirage of separation

3. In it flashes like pruning hooks
So she relieved those left behind

4. In ignorance in which chains clank
Wanderers whom the heat has ripped their coverings

5. Or almost distinguished the joints
Herding them like small birds or

6. An obedient messenger before arrival and connection
Praying with no ritual to continue

7. Then the prey was lost and the hunter
Nothing gained but this

8. So fear God and do good, for death
Is a sword that severs the wilderness

9. Do not change this whiteness, and if you slip
Do not despair when called a slipper

10. Our lives are like clear verses
And deaths are like the punctuation