Seasons of Life: Winter - Sarpi's bone

 "In the beginning, there was nothing: just a desolate, barren wasteland covered with thick ice. Was it a land or just condensed particles of dust, frozen and compressed into an apparent matter? 

It was so cold that particles of dust froze whilst still falling, and remained hanging in the space, like an unfinished prayer. The spirit of a bone collector, Sarpi, wandered there, condemned to this hopeless space and a search of a trace of life. His dark form, resembling a large spindly spider with long, thin legs, continuously disintegrated and reformed itself under the drifts of the icy wind. There was no memory of existence, only deafening silence, intersected by the deep howling of the wind. 

Sometimes, however, the whole expanse flickered with something, a vague something, like a mirage of water which glistens under the sun. The dark desolation, at such moments, exuded a longing so dense that it reflected the shadows on the empty space around it. In one of those shadows, Sarpi was digging in the thick layer of ice. Suddenly, the whirlwind appeared out of nothing and created a hole in the ice. The ray of frozen light caught a glimpse of the matter beneath the ice and poured into it all the ferocity of its millennial wait. And there, in that weightless peace, a cave-like recess was created, in which Sarpi's fluctuating form was pushed by the wind and crouched. For a moment, it acted as a cover and Sarpi fell silent, strangely comforted in this tiny shadowy sulcus. The wind started to howl relentlessly and the voices of some strange language wailed through it...abozaka aylo rawu eipa kada, zibuwo xku; abozaka aylo rawu kada, epa epa, zibuwo rawu; rawu rawu, kada kada, rawu kada, eipa zibowo, zibowo aylo kada.... a wail that seemed familiar to Sarpi, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not recall more. 

Humble me, wind! 

And the wind, as if he heard it, calmed down for a moment. Dead silence reigned around Sarpi. And its unstable particles settled on the ground beneath him. Sarpi prepared for the end and calmed down completely, without regrets and without hope. In the darkness of his little shelter, it seemed to Sarpi that something twinkled a little. And indeed, a small whitish grain, small as a tear, was lying next to him. Sarpi could only watch but he knew: it was a piece of bone!!! A seed-shaped fragment, a missing piece, a tiny anchor bone which connected the rest of the skeletal web! The grain of bone started to float as if carried by some non-existent force and fell directly on the mass of particles that represented Sarpi's form. And in a shadow on the wall of the recess, Sarpi saw an object and to his surprise he realized that he knew what it was: an accordion! Angelic music and voices arose in the ether above the dazed spirit of a bone collector, and a vision appeared of a bearded white-haired old man playing it and toothless happy children dancing around him and an equally toothless old women smiling while watching the scene by the fire. Something warm, thick and dense rose from somewhere in the depths of Sarpi's existence. The wind rose again and Sarpi's limbs, re-assembled, began to weave, knit and untangle feverishly without really being aware of what they were doing, as if by the reflex. And so Sarpi created a web and weaved into it the assembled bones, thus forming the skeletal frame of the world from the dust, bones, wind and remembrance.