Of Beasts and Humans

Before the ember, before the blade,

before the first rough shelter made,

they walked beside us, claw and wing,

they taught us how to burn and sing.

The wolf, a hymn of marrow’s call,

ran silver-threaded through the fall.

It carved in blood what kinship meant,

a promise howled, a testament.

The dog first swore in breath and bone,

a loyalty the earth had known.

Through famine, frost, through war-torn years,

its trust outlived our fleeting fears.

The horse, a storm in coiled might,

pulled thunder loose and raced the night.

It bore us past the world’s known end,

then spun the wind and ran again.

The elephant, whose echoes rang

through time’s unbroken, mourning sang,

taught grief’s great weight, yet also this—

that loss dissolves but love persists.

The bear, a shadow bound in sleep,

knew strength was found in silence deep.

It taught us when to rise or yield,

to rest before the hunt revealed.

The fox, a flicker, rust-red scheme,

laughed through the cracks of fate’s machine.

It showed us wit, escape, and art—

to live, we had to slip apart.

The hawk, who rode the molten air,

taught hunger honed to slicing glare.

To wait, to watch, to strike in tune,

to carve a path between the moon.

The owl, a cipher cloaked in hush,

unraveled time with feathered brush.

It whispered truths too deep to claim,

that darkness need not bear a name.

The cat, dusk-woven, veiled in grace,

moved like a whisper lost in space.

It taught us silence, patience, guile—

how stillness bends the world awhile.

The magpie, crowned in stolen gleam,

plucked beauty from the wreck of dreams.

It sang that worth is never lost,

that ruin sparkles, dust or glossed.

The crow, dark jester, feathered lore,

laughed loud at what we called "before."

It saw where endings fold, divide,

where death and wonder walk side by side.

The snake, in spirals writ with lore,

uncoiled the paths unseen before.

It hissed that death is but a seam,

a shedding skin, a shifting dream.

The moth, who chased the burning gleam,

became the prophet of a dream.

It warned that longing turns to fire,

that some must burn to climb up higher.

The firefly, a fleeting spark,

sang light’s defiance in the dark.

That even embers hold their throne,

that lost things shine in ways unknown.

The jellyfish, a phantom’s bloom,

swam slow as waves composed their tune.

It taught us grace in letting go,

to trust the pull, the undertow.

The snail, a spiral soft yet strong,

wrote patience deep where paths belong.

It showed that slow is not undone,

that time bends backward when it’s spun.

The whale, whose voice through oceans rang,

revealed what silence truly sang.

That echoes cross beyond the foam,

that vanished songs still carry home.

So beast and bird and shifting shade

have shaped the way we love and fade.

They haunt our veins, they frame our skies—

they live forever in our eyes.