What is the meaning of this life? It is that time of the day that is most mysterious. Most magical to my violet and blue eyes, eyes like the fading sunset to eventual oblivion on the surface of the ocean before me. I find that I stare at the sun all too often as I races to leave this world, tired of this existence and wishing to rest. Like all of us do. I may be one born recently, but I am already contemplating the reason for all of this. Why it is we must continue on. Why it is we are here at all. I do not know why, and I have yet to find true clarity and purpose. I mean true clarity. True meaning. Not just what my parents tell me. Not just what I hear in passing. I want truth. All I have is a sunset.

I find my small form sitting on the edge of a rock, looking out into the endless waves of time lapping before me. Does it ever end? Does it ever stop? Doesn't the ocean get tired like the sun? I have never seen it still. Not once. I am waiting on that day, when there is real silence in Glorall. Where I don't have to listen to the dull roar of an angry earth clashing with the sky. I wonder if I will ever see that day. A day of silence and stillness. I wonder if such a day could ever exist in this busy world.

It is cold on this day. Cold and unpleasant, to be honest. I think the cold is some sort of torture. A punishment. A reminder to all the living of their weary muscles. Of their constantly beating hearts becoming too used to their lives. I can feel it weaving into my peppered fur around my neck. Burrowing until it caresses my skin and licks its lips before it decides to taste my flesh. A harsh mistress is the cold, with a kiss so bitter. I find my young form giving way to a shiver. There is always some uncontrollable force like that in my very own frame. I cannot control my body, not truly. An unfortunate existence we all live, in the prisons of our own physical forms.

The sun continues to run. Only a sliver remains. Only piece of what I once new as today. It is now, this very delicate time, that day fades and falls into the grasp of night. A time where soon, my own body will seem to want to wilt without the beams of light from the ball in the blue sky. I want to challenge my own perception and existence. I want to see the whole not. I do not wish to retire to my den this night, when the stars glimmer a solemn lullaby. I will not fall prey to their gentle song. I will remain throughout. That is the promise I make upon the last shred of sunlight as it passes into the mystery beyond. I give a silent nod, a quiet goodbye to the sun. I turn my eyes upwards, blinking them in their subtle beauty. I will be greeting the sun when it rises. This night and I, will be getting to know each other real well.

I find a sigh leaving my mouth. It is strange, this season of winter. MY breath is no longer an invisible force in the world. It is a real, tangible thing. I watch in the very dim light as it rises, twisting and twirling before it fades into the infinity above. I do not understand why breath decided to show itself in the cold. Is it so unpleasant, that it cannot hold invisible? And yet, when I breath in like in this moment, I do not see my breath pouring into my nostrils. There is an inquisitive look that dazzles my eyes. A look of wonder and deep thought as I turn my form from laying on my belly, to on my side. I stretch my form out, my fire-touched under side exposed as I then bring my limbs lazily back to me. I do not know what I will do this night, the night I will know through and through. Maybe go down to the beach and dig in the sand when the tide is low. Maybe. For now, I will wait for the stars to try to sing me to sleep, so I can prove to them my true strength.