Why does the world fight for life?
when while fighting,
we destroy it.
Who decided
that flowers grow on grass,
and not stone?
Who is this beast before me?
why does it gallop in slow motion?
Who is this sliver of black and yellow?
why does it wallow in such glory of death?
Now this beast,
this slow moving giraffe, I mean
now she glides over dry fields in the Savanna.
Now this sliver,
this beautiful glint of colours in the grass,
this snake I mean.
How does it shine like that?
why does it attack like this?
I don’t know how,
this black and yellow beauty
inspires me.
I don’t know why,
this beast makes
me want to sing.
I do know how to see this great beast,
this sliver of black and yellow.
How to hear how they speak,
how to listen to the short sharp breaths.
Tell me how,
does the snake listen,
how does it feel its prey.
Tell me how,
does the giraffe taste the breeze,
how does it smell the clouds,
by merely lifting its head.
I ask you this,
in the form of a poem,
because,
I have nobody else to ask.
-AK
