Children of Bast

A creature of the divine,
To the ancient ones,
But with a hunter's grace,
The mark of the highest,
Engineering of celestial hands,
Or of natural selection,
They are Bast's Masterpiece.

A work of natural art,
In fur, and blood and bone,
Their blessing is a gift,
Not many a mortal soul,
Deserve.
Familiar to the magical,
A mark of the sensual,
Many a Goddesses' companion
Watching, helping, protecting,
Or comforting with a simple purr.

Distained of those,
Who would send these,
Compact deities,
To their death.
For the crime,
Of having no home.
Abhorred of those,
Who would desecrate,
Their bodies,
After such an untimely end.
Can you bear their fear?
And that betrayal at their end?
Or can their ghosts haunt you,
Do you have an immortal heart,
To bear witness?

Bast's Children find hope,
In the few,
Who invite them in,
To share our lives,
Against the odds,
You are safe, say we.
Against the disapproval,
The smirks, the jokes, the laughter.
The labeling from those,
Who will not understand,
The blessings left amongst us,
And the need to keep,
These children of Bast,
Safe.