Curiosity by Alastair Reid

may have killed the cat; more likely 
the cat was just unlucky, or else curious 
to see what death was like, having no cause 
to go on licking paws, or fathering 
litter on litter of kittens, predictably.

Nevertheless, to be curious 
is dangerous enough. To distrust 
what is always said, what seems, 
to ask old questions, interfere in dreams, 
leave home, smell rats, have hunches 
do not endear cats to those doggy circles 
where well-smelt baskets, suitable wives, good lunches 
are the order of things, and where prevails 
much wagging of incurious heads and tails.

Face it. Curiosity 
will not cause us to die- 
only lack of it will. 
Never to want to see 
the other side of the hill 
or that improbable country 
where living is an idyll 
(although a probably hell) 
would kill us all. 
Only the curious 
have, if they live, a tale 
worth telling at all.

Dogs say cats love too much, are irresponsible, 
are changeable, marry too many wives, 
desert their children, chill all dinner tables 
with tales of their nine lives. 
Well, they are lucky. Let them be 
nine-lived and contradictory, 
curious enough to change, prepared to pay 
the cat price, which is to die 
and die again and again, 
each time with no less pain. 
A cat minority of one 
is all that can be counted on 
to tell the truth. And what cats have to tell 
on each return from hell 
is this: that dying is what the living do, 
that dying is what the loving do, 
and that dead dogs are those who do not know 
that dying is what, to live, each has to do.

                Inspiring. Is not that everyone praises in a person? The ability to look to the horizon and not only admire the beauty of it (any dog can do that) but also wonder what is beyond that, and take it to the next level. Many fall into the normalcy of the everyday, not taking any chances, and wondering why they feel so empty. Others, however, realize that there can be more, if they are willing to pay for it. But in the end it was worth it, because the vibrancy is what life is all about. This can be easily explained with Eli Wiesel’s quote “The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of beauty is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, its indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, but indifference between life and death.” Great variance gives life its meaning, while entropy only gives a general life represented by the color beige.

            From a stylistic point of view, I liked also the format by Mr. Reid, with an almost introduction, a verse in pseudo-paragraph form, a second differently styled verse,  then the last verse much like verse one and the intro combined. Also, the metaphors contrasting the cats and the dogs was clever too.