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A bon chat, bon rat

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These clattering heels

Announce the turning of the wheels

From which come endless sounds of rails

Turning within my skull?s entrails.

Turn like the feline chases prey,

Thus ever learning to obey

The laws of hunt and dexterity

And honing skills, gaining ability.

But like the scurry rat

That is the plane of wisdom, flat

My yearning falls for it

And gains no vantage.

And so I shall remain unwise,

Searching ever for a paradise

Brought only by the knowledge

Of an epiphany?s sacrilege.

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