[my universe is my image, but my image is not me]

Catsoul is vast and mysterious, containing domestic cats as well as the little fierce wild ones, the great lions and panthers, and the ancient sabertooths and their ancestors. It is the tabby kitten curled up on a pillow, the starving stray waiting on the porch, and wary eyeshine in the urban night.
It watches.
It is the pampered show cat with long glittering fur and a jeweled collar, and the breeder’s castoff with a deformed spine and useless hind legs.
It survives.
It can see in the dark, and it can leap and hunt and play and dance. It is blind and crippled, deaf and incontinent, feeble of mind and wracked with seizures.
It loves.
It is the beloved skeleton buried in the garden, wrapped in a fraying blanket under a fragrant flowering bush that gives life to butterflies and hummingbirds.
It defines a holy place.
It is the ocelot crawling on a jungle vine, the tiger swimming in a muddy river, and the huge ancient fang shining like blue porcelain in the glacial dust.
It transforms, yet endures.

http://ironwing.wordpress.com/category/scratchboard/