My newly gotten kitten,
was playing in the kitchen,
chasing a delectable treat

He pushed it around
on the cold-hard ground
as if it were live meat

Now that he's older
and learned cognitively
that treat is not what is seems

So now there's no push with a playful paw
No thrill, or excitement, or lifeless, I saw.

For there instead
in his bemused head
the thought his beliefs are a lie

So now he just eats it greedily
because it comes so easily

..this is our reality..

Imagination is a word
seldom ever heard
except to describe the child inside

That kitten, you see,
represents you and me
because we once had those ideas

Nothing is real,  Nothing is fake
it's all from inside, it's all what you make

But our society has told us what is right and wrong
and we have believed it far too long

You must follow a one mind track thinking
instead of listening to your truth

Just like this kitten,
who played in the kitchen,
chasing a delectable treat

o'er iron stone ridge
the evening star keeps watch
on our small township

With my whole body I taste these peaches,
I touch them and smell them.  Who speaks?

I absorb them as the Angevine
Absorbs Anjou.  I see them as a lover sees,

As a young lover sees the first buds of spring
And as the black Spaniard plays his guitar.

Who speaks?  But it must be that I,
That animal, that Russian, that exile, for whom

The bells of the chapel pullulate sounds at
Heart.  The peaches are large and round,

Ah! and red; and they have peach fuzz, ah!
They are full of juice and the skin is soft.

They are full of the colors of my village
And of fair weather, summer, dew, peace.

The room is quiet where they are.
The windows are open.  The sunlight fills

The curtains.  Even the drifting of the curtains,
Slight as it is, disturbs me.  I did not know

That such ferocities could tear
One self from another, as these peaches do.