My deluded cat

My cat is an illusion. There is no cat, no I and certainly no my, and for that matter no illusion. There is a form, only perceived by my mind. The cat is nothing more than blood, bones, flesh, organs, a brain all of which perish in a heart beat, each heart beat. Yet some sentient being is asleep there on the conceived couch. Something which I don’t know, yet there that being is. Cat mind. This mind. Body experiences cold and suggests it needs sleep.

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