The Hour of the Wolf

"Have you ever heard the hour of the wolf?...It's the time between 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning. You can't sleep, and all you can see is the troubles and the problems and the way your life should've gone but didn't. All you can hear is the sound of your own heart."

It's that time again. Never fails. Everyday, like clockwork, I look at the screen, or the phone or my ipod just as those numbers flash and convert from one to the other -- 3:25 & 3:26. Is it a coincidence? A sign of some sort? Or is it just a twisted form of attachment? Probably the latter. Poe's Tell-Tale Heart. Pounding heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Except here there are no floorboards. Nor no cataract-eyed old man lying dead beneath them. There's no guilty conscience. Only a mosaic of hope, annoyance, anger, confusion, frustration, love.

The time. Always 3:25, followed by 3:26. Can I forget? The phantom memory. Could've been. Might've been. Wasn't so. Obscurity. Confusion. Foggy vision. Loss of innocence. Wet pillow. Tangled hair. Vivid dreams. Wild imagination. Cruel reality. Overwhelming sense of helplessness. Woven feelings. Nothing is concrete. Everything is subjective. There is no truth. Hearts aren't autonomous.

3:25. 3:26. Your truth and my truth aren't the same. Your reality is yours and yours alone. Likewise, mine is possessed by only me. I wish I knew your truth. I wish you knew mine. This isn't a fairy tale. I can't wish upon a star. A dream isn't a wish your heart makes. You don't listen with your heart.

Am I being fair to you in my assumption? Perhaps, like the wolf, you are misunderstood. Perhaps even you misunderstand yourself. Wolves are elusive by nature. But they're fearless, loyal, devoted, loving, expressive communicators. You can't be a wolf. I don't want to judge you. Confusion tears me apart. Half of me defends you unconditionally, while they other half resents you, shreds you and buries you under negativity. I'm a wolf. I elude even myself. But I am fearless. I've descended into Hades and survived. Yet, I remain loving, devoted, loyal. Maybe that's the connection. Maybe that's why that hour haunts me. It's who you are; it's who I am.

It's the Hour of the Wolf -- "It's the hour when most people die, when sleep is deepest, when nightmares are most real. It's the hour when the sleepless are haunted by their deepest fear, when ghosts and demons are most powerful."

The Hour of the Wolf. It marinades those who are aware of its existence in its futility. The sweaty palms and rhythm-less heartbeat don't change the course of actions or feelings. Onomatopoeia. Owoooo!!!