The deep Winters storm howled at us. Our view outside obscured by wind driven snows. A million years plus , eons we’d lived here on the cusp of yesterday & tomorrow. This day like many we’d endured when the sun pulled back from our lands we shared tales surrounded by sweet smoke from the fire. It’s flames illuminated on the icicles which hung from the entrance to our cavern glitter like the fireflies of Summer. Sparking & dancing ; our magic flames , casting fire motes shimmering like the stars in distant skies. Here we watch our sisters & brethren through time past and present. We are wolf & we are wolfkin. Those who have survived the upheavals of time . Civilizations have risen to glory and they have fallen to misery under our watchful gaze. We are the ones whose bond with that which is termed “wild” is stamped in our very essence . That ultimate connection to the naturally existing world. Animalia , as it is categorized by those afraid of the spirit, the wildness , the magic they cannot understand.
Our pack is ancient and our pack is wary. We are the young girl digging deeper under her warm covers on a chill weekend morning. Snuggling deeply with her pooch who brings joy to her life. Be it a rescued one who’s fallen afoul at the hands of the soulless or a purposefully bred friend with the finest of bloodlines as counted by those that consider such. This connection of the ancient exists. We are the lady in the fancy automobile holding the little dog close. A lady perfectly coiffed , lipstick in place , yet burrowing her head into to our canine compatriots neck . Seizing the moment and sensing the moods of the spirit ultimately connected to all that is wild in a way few understand. A lady needing the connection to her ancestors yet never understanding the meaning of such a fervent act. We are the rancher on the pony as the sun sets across the range land. Gaging the change of seasons as we know it to be . Not as it is told. Watching the suns glorious rays surrender to the darkness as the creatures who inhabit those wide open spaces institute their own changing of the guards. The ones of light heading off to slumber while the ones of darkness begin their watch.
From our aerie the foibles of man are evident as they drift further from the spirit towards the realm of their own creations. Tawdry breakable things that will by no means weather eternity’s storms . Yet they lovingly stroke these items . Never realizing only the spirit is eternal. Items that may be turned off and silenced by the hands of those who mean them no well. What a vainglorious rhapsody to the meaningless they perform with emotions of the spirit drugged to a stupor as they search for feelings in a place devoid of heartbeat , a desert lacking the breath of life.
Our lupine friends growl a rumbled warning should our spirits linger amongst the bedeviled . Ancient’s wisdom that’s kept them free telling us to find those few of true soulfulness on which to focus our attentions. To feed only them support from our ethereal plane. The rest are but chaff to be tossed into the winds . If we can catch that one pleading voice , provide succor to that one’s falling tears; we have accomplished something. For in a graying cement world should we have caused even one to wonder if perhaps they’re not crazy and something so much more is out there . That the world is big , powerful and oh so much more than they’ve been told. That magic exists and they just have to reach out into the silence to grasp it. That in those still moments of their mind . Akin to a pinprick of light in an otherwise pitch black room we are here ; you are with us and we you .Feast upon that thought , embrace that connection and follow through.
twelvemilecreek 