The Safari

The golden dust, the scent of coming rain, The rising sun on the vast and open plain. A canvas painted in ochre, green, and gold, A story ancient, and so bravely told. The engine hums, a low and patient sound, As the jeep goes searching for hallowed ground. A silhouette of giraffes, tall and serene, A living image on a wild and endless scene The mighty lions, a sun-soaked tawny pride, Hidden in the grasses where their instincts guide. A leopard's shadow, elusive and so rare, Sliding through the thicket with a quiet, watchful stare. The trumpeting echo of the elephant's call, As families wander, moving free and tall. A wildebeest stampede, a blur of motion swift, A thundering promise, a primal, moving gift. And when the twilight paints the sky anew, With fiery hues of crimson and deep blue, The campfire crackles, a low and steady glow, With jackals barking in the dark, and stars that grow. The stillness settles, vast, deep and wide, The wildness stirring, with nowhere left to hi...
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Starless Sky

The canvas spreads, an endless, charcoal plain,

A heavy vault, indifferent to rain.

No ancient spark, no pinpoint of the lost,

Just velvet darkness, at a certain cost.


The absent fire, the hidden, empty space,

Reflects no legend, knows no god's embrace.

No pinprick hope, no distant, silver gleam,

Just the deep quiet of a forgotten dream.


The city's lesser lights ascend and blur,

A mimic pattern, a metallic stir.

They cannot fill the silence from on high,

Or pierce the hollow of this vacant sky.


It is a blanket, absolute and whole,

That hides the secrets of the waiting soul.

A perfect, dark, and uninterrupted sleep,

A promise neither heaven nor hell keeps.

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