They talk of things past, things ancient and beautiful and wise, when the puny footprint of man had yet to come to this vast continent. Beyond the memory of time and human vision, they walked in peace and ruled this place with gentle wisdom. If man would but pause to hear their silent voice, he would learn much of the bonds that hold together, the loyalty that joins forever, and that real strength lies not in size but in the simplicity of quiet confidence and communal care...
They speak wisdom and beauty and power, capture all in a single languid stare that stirs the soul. Royalty measured in quiet repose, might in silent certainty. No need here, for the trappings of glory or for any mantle but that of simply being. Their fire mirrored in the glow of an African sunset, their crown the gold of an African dawn, they rest secure in the certainty of their unchallenged rule. Their music is the song of fluid motion, like a symphony gathered in the heat of the sun.
Light with the laughter of unbridled care, they dance to the song of the plains. Dust rises with the drumbeat of their hooves, and their rhythm pounds out the freedom of the African landscape. They wear their stripes with the pride of an ancient heritage, bold and beautiful and beyond the definition of logic. Their colours have no start and no end, no clear black on white or white on black, as if their freedom were proudly painted into their hides, declaring it for all to see, a living symbol of open places and endless motion that sings the mystery of time.I could, of course, go on forever... the diversity and the singular beauty of each and every one is a lesson worth learning, a song worth sharing, a poem without beginning or end...
I hope you've enjoyed this peek through my little "African window". Thanks for joining me!
Jude
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