A Sphinx from Egypt

On the precipice of sleep

I thought that my cat was the entirety of Ancient Egypt.

With the sun burnt sand and the cultures of the past,

she lay on the pillow where I rested my head.

Like the Great Sphinx that continues to watch time pass,

her paws graze my forehead and I know that she calls for my attention.

In my dream, I was Modern America,

under our flag and driven by our technology

that is still unable to communicate with the past,

messages halted over the great sea of time,

despite the people with tan skin

I saw crawling upon the paws of the limestone statue,

the sphinx stern and unmoving.

Her existence remains attached to the past,

immortal as the oldest trees,

with the language that runs through the earth,

while I adapt to a younger era that prevents me from understanding.