The man was a nomad
Keen-eyed lending ears
Detecting scents
Of threats and fears
Rambling lands
In perpetuous search
Quench his thirst
In crystal rivers
Turquoise flow he follows
Exploring mystic jungles
Gales fondling leaves
Echo the voice of phantoms
Lofty trees bleed resin
Swallowing insects to endure
As juicy berries ferment
Enticing mushrooms
Hypnotic dots
Lightning strikes a gesture
Wrath of the invisible
Someone above
The clouds has an abode,
Luminescing sphere a goddess
At times abruptly obscured
By devouring monsters sky wolves
The man yells to drive off
While others fire flaming arrows
To rekindle the star
He strives to grasp
A meaning on the qui vive
For myriad sundry creatures
Shapes and colours
Roars growls snorts warbles
Enchanted he reaches the sea
Endless expanse of immensity
Mirific creation he perceives
Ignoring yet querying what
Is on the other side and where
Does it all end, if it does.
[Featured image: Jungle Book Concept art by Seth Engstrom]