Broken Wolf's song (Patreon)

Good afternoon my dears! I hope you are doing well today! 

Apologies for a bit of radio silence over the last week. With an ever evolving work schedule, things can stack sometimes in poor favor of personal time. 

That being said, yesterday I volunteered for community outreach and joined a group with judging in a cultural arts event for kids from multiple school clubs.

 It was a great time, and it allowed me some additional effort to leave personal written notes with each entry I judged and reviewed. Seeing that kind of creativity was inspiring, and seeing the kids excitedly read the notes and receive their ribbons, more so.  

Some argued I was a bit generous, but as far as I was concerned, every kid there was creative and expressive. That's a win in my book any day. 

All that being said, up for download and viewing today is a digital piece I call " Broken Wolf's song" inspired by Clod B's " Growing back again " which can be found here https://soundcloud.com/clod-b/growing-back-again and a handful of sketches! 

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It is when our greater fears creep into us, that our feelings, grown both aimless and unrecognizable, escape ourselves as that of a lowly howling. A terrible song is let out on the winds. 

Harm comes to us in times of our deepest illusions. The harm appears as cracks beneath the skin, the seeping of apathy and indifference into our hearts until that hollowness gives birth to madness and anguish. The beginnings of something if not realized, leads unto an endless cycle, a spiral meant to nurture misery and misery alone.  

And so we cry out, we screech and wail in sadness and misunderstanding within this state of brokenness. A part of ourselves feels missing, invisible...lost. Given into, there is no relief nor reward, only further loss. 

Those who know harm, understand all too well the desire of silence, and the aversion towards redemption. Those such as Ansil the broken, kin of the woods whose size demanded she be torn down piece by piece. 

Cruelty is found in those removed of empathy, warped by passion gone rampant and selfish. Given the cruelty of time, we may see these acts as that to be emulated, and may turn inward towards a fate of sharing this despair...but we musn't. We cannot. 

We cannot allow this cruelty of the self, this state of brokenness to define ourselves. We cannot turn as sirens to lure and spread these cracks within ourselves for they will inevitably bleed outwardly...and when they do...that terrible song shall fill the air once more. 

We are redeemable in a world some of us have considered wholly guilty. We are worthy of more than less, capable more of miracles than curses. 

Ansil understood this faith. Given time, all that which she thought lost, returned to her. It was as if the forest itself breathed a sigh of relief..