[ ever close your eyes ? ]

[Deleted]

ever stop and listen ?

cheiron { five-year-old . stallion . single }

[Deleted]

youteachmetoseeallthat'sbeautiful

m y s e n s e s t o u c h a w o r l d i n e v e r p i c t u r e d[/center][/size][/font][/color]

cheiron

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/right][/font]

» application «

It's funny when you reflect back on your own life and to think that you might have never lived. My mother used to say that I was a miracle; she was old when she became pregnant with me, much older than all the other young mares. She was well past her prime, and I was her first foal. Although she was quite excited to finally have a child, something went terribly wrong. She wasn't expected to birth until late spring, but sometime in mid-winter she began to pace back and forth, grunting, and finally collapsing with the pains of labor.

It wasn't an easy birth. In her old age, she didn't have the strength the other mares had. She struggled with it, oftentimes having to stop to catch her breath. She reached the end though, when the day broke, and her efforts presented her with a small, mostly white colt. That colt was me. Nobody expected much from me, for I was tiny and premature. My mother recovered, although it took so much out of her she grew easily tired through the rest of her life.

I was a fighter, she said. I had a heart for life, and a thirst for knowledge. My years growing up were quite uneventful; I played, I ate, I slept. Some of the bigger colts picked on me for my feminine like features, but my mother would always reassure me and tell me that I shouldn't focus on their comments, for I'm alive when I shouldn't be. Yes, I lived strong and focused, but my mother was starting to slip, and sometimes she believed I was my father, whom had passed when I was yet young, much younger than I was now.

It happened when I was about two. Mother had been especially tired that day, and we had fallen behind the herd with all her breaks. We weren't scared though, we knew their scent and where they were going, so we could catch up to them later. I remember her telling me that we should get some rest, as it was late and we had been walking all day. We found shelter and hunkered down for the night. The last words she ever spoke to me were "I love you, Cheiron. Please, stay as pleasant and even-tempered as you are now for forever." I promised her I would and told her I loved her too. We soon fell fast asleep. But when I awoke that morning, I could tell she wasn't there. Gone was the warmth in her hide, and the breaths that caused the gentle rise and fall of her chest came no more. I mourned for most of the day, but I knew mother wouldn't have wanted me to grieve all day. I was to go on with my life. And so, I did.

I went back to the herd, told them what happened, and then bid my adieu. I couldn't stay there, where my mother had been born and raised and died. I continued on my journey of life alone, and have walked alone ever since. Of course, I've had friends and companions along the way, but always has it returned to my lonesome journey. I, the patient and kind Cheiron, suppose I have always been destined to a life on my own.