How can one sound eliminate the entire world? Everything around me gone, reduced to blankness. Emptiness. Nothing exists except that high, tremulous call. It burrows into my ears, reaches into my bones and grinds them to mist.
A symphony unfolds with every multitonal vibration of his cry. A longing that plucks answering notes from the vessels of my heart. Tones of sacrifice and consequence. Where is his pack? Where are you? No answer. Just the plaintive call, not even a question. An acknowledgment. This is it. Everything.
I remember my own question. Rhetorical, more of a statement. Where are you? No answer. But your silence always contained its own sounds. Layers of praise, sacrifice, and desire. The open telephone line. The crackle of your hair against the receiver. You didn’t speak. Not then, and not now, and your silence holds all the shattering impact of a lone wolf’s howl.
Don’t wolves need to breathe, to pause? When will he stop calling? There’s no one coming. No answer. His voice is driving me mad. Maybe if I call now, you’ll speak. Say my name. When will the silence end? But my question is a statement. The answer already known. Never.