Time: What Could Have Been
A small face fills my view. A beautiful pup, one with a silvery, pink-red coat that so resembles my own stares soundlessly up at me. I watch my own tear fall, stuck in a moment that feels like forever. The tear rolls off of my pup’s coat unto a frost-bitten earth. Tears continue to flow into the snow, shining with the light of the moon, and I throw my head back to let loose the howl building up inside me for my only pup, born in the Time of Cold.

My cries echo endlessly through barren rocks and leafless trees. Words fill my mind, overflowing into my endless howl. Words strung together with such beauty that the wind stops to listen come to me, and I send them to the spirit of my child, with whom I would never spend another moment with.

You will never feel the sun

Never taste the trout from the stream

Hear the wolf cry

To the moon you won't howl

The feel of sorrow will never reach you

Pain will never hurt your small,

Unbeating heart

But before you go,

You have felt love

And this will guide you

But memory will stand strong

And I will remember

Time, what could have been, but never shall be.

Tears continue to flow, and freeze into the earth. I feel as though the light of the sun will never shine again, and if it should, its merciless heat will never outshine that of the small, flickering flame of my pup’s soul, now gone, extinguished by snow and cold. I am numb with grief, and my vision tunnels, filing down to the empty eyes of an empty body, lying in an empty world. I feel as if I am drowning in a sea that is sorrow, grief and pain. Endless waves of heartbreak crash down onto my small body, and I am choking on salty tears, floundering and drowning in anguish.

As I completely lose all of my will to live, a small light appears to guide me away from my own despair. The light dances, casting small shadows. It is not a hard light; it is warm and pleasant, but it is fierce. The small flame feeds on my hope, and it grows, hot and bright.The light skips about, the heat burns away the water that holds me down, and steam curls around me, banished by flames of life. warmth blooms inside me as fire dances, flitting around in a joyful manner, and I come to realize it is speaking to me. My pup is alive in the earth, the trees, the sky, and my howl as I let it loose in delight. My voice is not the haunting cry of the wolf; nor the harsh bark of the dog, but a clear warbling melody that dances with my pup’s flaming soul. The beautiful  sound echoes through the forest as the first breeze of spring tugs my tail.