Tailwind,
Although I've seen it many many times by now, I don't think I will ever become accustomed to the falling snow. It is the middle of winter now. New Years Eve actually at about 11:30 p.m. Here on Earth, in every human culture I've encountered, the New Years celebration remains a constant. Though the methods and traditions change from people to people, the reasoning doesn't. A celebration for renewal, reflecting on the past, vowing to change things that you never actually intend to change. Looking forward to another year of promise and hope.
For a species that die so soon and fear death with such poetic intensity, how strange it is that they rejoice so in the passing of another year. Yet rejoice they do, finding pleasure in what they should logically fear and hate.
Children eat what they call 'candy,' a more energizing and enjoyable form of sustenance. Adults drink their form of high grade. Gifts are exchanged, parties are held. For one day, there is no fear of death or the passing of time, only hope of renewal.
And, of course, there's the snow.
Unlike the New Years, snow does not occur all over the world. It occurs at a lower temperature and is formed of frozen water. We do not have water on Cybertron, and a good number of us certainly had an… interesting first reaction to lakes and especially rain. Real rain, not the acid rain of home. Neither do we have snow, so I will try my best to describe it. I'm afraid it will largely be like trying to describe color to a mech without optics, and I have not the gift for words that some of my peers have.
Snow is white and soft, drifting to the ground in gentle waves or harshly falling blades. To Cybertronians, it is harmless if irritable at times. Yet to humans, it could mean death. It isn't the snow that can harm, but the cold that brings it. In winter, it looks as though the whole world is dead, barren of life. Organic things cannot survive it without great difficulty. Yet at the end of every winter, I see trees, creatures… life prevails over the larger forces that would destroy them. Against all odds… much like our own people I suppose.
And not only do these creatures survive the winter, there are those that thrive in it. Yesterday afternoon, while waiting to report findings of Decepticon movement to Hound, I noticed a pair of young Earth creatures. Foxes I believe they are called. They weren't starving or hurt or struggling to survive.
They were playing. Playing in the snow like two sparklings from the Golden Era. As though they couldn't be safer or happier than right where they were. They kicked up the white substance in each other's faces, wrestling happily. Even in the midst of such empty, cold bleakness… there is life, vitality, happiness.
And there is beauty too, I've found.
The snow, in such large quantities, appears endless and makes everything look the same. Yet up close… Perceptor showed me once. He had been so excited, he showed half the base. But up close each single snowflake is different from its brothers. Each one is delicate and beautiful and complex and so different! It is impossible to describe one properly to you. On my next leave, I'll bring an ornament of a snowflake to you.
You are my winter, in all its terrible beauty. Your anger could freeze a soul or leave one feeling bleak and empty. But when you were at peace, you were as beautiful as the settled snow at night, glittering under a moon. Serene and clear and harsh, you can house playful young ones and destroy unsuspecting enemies at the same time. Beautiful and terrible… it is who you've always been. And amongst your fellows in the Skydancers you fit in so nicely, like the piece of a multicolored puzzle. Yet you were never like them. You were unique though you could be so similar.
Humans spend the celebration of the New Year together, with their loved ones. I have my comrades, but I think I will have to content myself with the memory of your smile. I count the days until I can see you again even as I sit here, watching the dancing snow.
All My Love,
Mirage