Whether the night haunts him or as a mask hides him, <br />No matter, he knows where prey and fear lie in wait. <br />Poacher whose skill daylight disregards as base cheat, <br />But whose widened pupils know not of our chasm. <br />Begotten by chaos to dwell in fields of fright, <br />He's used to vertigo and aware of its rights. <br />Across our obsessive fear up and down he strides, <br />Shy king of a dark realm that we're greatly missing. <br /> <br />Gravity is challenged by his weight of darkness <br />And his scorn turns to ice the blaze that at him beams, <br />Impassive torment in a sumptuous slowness <br />Which behind a sound sleep hides the bound, the fondness <br />For cushions and for roofs and for eaves -and for dreams.<br /><br />Michel Galiana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cat-at-night/
