Okavango Safari Journal | Echoes of Our Ancient Fear
The cry is of death and survival, for the wilderness never takes without giving. We hold ourselves tighter, remembering a time we were comforted that the screams were not ours.[The sunrise will signal a new day!]
The cry is muted in the caress of waking, Blood spilt stains the colours of dawning
Framed in light of each passing moment As silhouettes shape the entry of morning.
The bloodstain will darken in time's dictate, Drying to dust and carried by a breath of
A scented breeze whispering the seasonsListening to a kill happening and then hearing the feeding - the tearing of meat and the crunching of bones - is as primeval as experiences can be. Today, wrapped in the safety of a vehicle or the comforts of a room, it is easy to get excited and marvel at the incredible safari experience.
In reality this experience is what faced our ancestors on a daily basis - with the exception that they were part of the landscape that we marvel at from the safety of our developed world.A Time of Fear
It is through the eyes we sense fear
And in a scent, a motion, and a cry,
A scent of blood, a motion of panic
And a cry of pain shattering the air
In a time in our past we knew this fear
With an understanding of the necessity
And our fear nurtured our instincts
Now in our evolved selves
'now in our supposed evolvement'
Our fear nurtures the extremes of our soulsby Leigh Kemp
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