Aw, look, honey, it’s painting us a picture! That’s adorable!

"With each stroke I spill fate, dark calls in red — fragile, fleeting, keening across the sky. Perhaps, in this simple smear of time here, you’ll finally see. But, no. It is but circus to you, and We are bound to the endless void of knowing, warning in vain — doomed to watch you stumble through the dark, minds overfull of themselves like bowls of blessed fruit left to rot until all is fetid and still."

I bet he wants some cat food, the li’l cutie.