Two cats sit
where the path forgets itself.
The temple rests
without intention,
its roof holding moonlight
like a quiet bowl.
They gaze—
not at the temple,
not at the moon—
but into the stillness
that wears both.
Whiskers catch the night breeze.
Tails curl
like unanswered questions.
A bell does not ring,
yet something is heard.
The moon does not shine,
yet everything is seen.
Two cats—
or one silence
divided
just enough
to notice itself.
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