Idle Thought: Cat Lamps

Ba danna wa oda, wookie nipple pinchy.

What does my cat think of a lamp?

Is it like a little sun that doesn't know how to climb the sky right? A kitten? Where's its parent? Why isn't it teaching it how to be a proper sun when it grows up? Who's taking responsibility, here?

Or what about when I reach up to snuff out the sun at bedtime? Do I hold the power to kill the sun? It is a small sun, to be sure, but to kill a child does not take much power at all.

Then again, I create and obliterate these child-suns at will. Often I will extinguish one and mere moments later return it to life as if idly lost in thought, then, finding myself again, return it to oblivion and another room falls back to darkness.

Could I end the great sun above? I birth and undo so very many child-suns each day; is it so hard to think I could reach up into the gray-blue one twilight and pluck the very fire from the sky? Is my magic really that strong?

An eternal blackness. Perhaps this is what I fear each night as I create the tiny lights that guide me  through 'til morrow. Perhaps not even I know what secrets are held in the Great Sun, though my power be great.

Ooh, look, a cookie. I can haz it.