Waking up to the rays of sunshine beaming. Comforted like a cub relying on its pack. The world was like a passing voyage of the sea. Tiny spot that passes slowly, far from reach.
Constantly exploring the flora and fauna of the wilderness. Without any limit, appearing almost fearless. Glimpses of prides symbolised the trail to the throne.
Hunting for preys was a piece of cake. More like savoury cakes. Snoozing was a way of life. Huffing each day willingly as a sign of harmony.
Vulnerability could come in two ways. A chance to flourish along with the pride or risking getting wounded. The risk to lose the throne. Threatened by pines and each distinctive wildlife.
Losing its power, growls were unheard. Transposing into whimpers, minute-like. The mighty figure of the jungle was nowhere to be seen. Hiding in between the grasslands and manes.
Aware of sensing storms, taking refuge under the shades. The rays were nowhere to be seen except creeping dark shadows. Pouring rain symbolised its grimace of pain.
How do I gain my immunity when I have lost a part of my community?
For the lost ones and the ones that I have lost.
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