Alles ging Kaput
The forest is deathly still. The cold driving rains have come and swept away everything before them. There are no more flowers. There are no more paw prints from happy forest dwellers to show their continuing presence. The Walrus cries deep, bitter, tears. The Pixie Sprite deep within still wishes to frolic; but to do that all alone — again — is too much for her. She cries even more bitter tears.
It is time to go back to the great northern sea, to the rest of Walrus kind. The trip is long, and the old Walrus is feeble. This will be a harder trip than the happier one to the forest. Waves and waves of tears wash down their old weatherbeaten face.
Faith... Faith shows itself when the going gets tough. A wise man once said:
Though the fig tree should not blossom,
And there be no fruit on the vines,
Though the yield of the olive should fail,
And the fields produce no food,
Though the flock should be cut off from the fold,
And there be no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will exult in the Lord,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
(Habakkuk 3:17&18)
The Walrus sets off on their way, dragging their weary body one fitful lurch at a time. The trip back to the northern sea is long; but the Walrus must do this to survive. Their solitary ice floe awaits them. However, like Habakkuk, their faith WILL remain.
