The Sunset in Mara.
Just that, it doesn’t really set in Mara,
It makes way for the circles of life to come alive,
It’s the crimson trumpet that blows to make way
For the battlefield to come to life.
For the eyes that glow in the dark and the hunters ready to unleash.
The stealthy stalkers at ease,
Vs the vigilant senses,
the predators on loose,
Vs the strong defences.
The failed chases,
The triumphant blood red faces,
The joining dots to story of evolution,
And the daily survival races.
A new story is written,
When sun sets in Mara.
Just that, sun doesn’t really set in Mara,
It makes way for Mara to paint the story of life,
For a new day to see.
