The air stinks of putrid humidity,
The roting carcass of the baboon insults my nasal passages,
It is not just the primate's doing,
It is the intruding sunlight through the foilage,
Making a barbecue of the knave.
The flowers, so redundant in their indomitable beauty,
Radiate more light than the flamming rock above me,
An aurora of colour and light eminate from them,
A collection of crimson red and sunshine yellow,
Projects itself on the morose brown ground.
Not alone in my admiration,
I am joined by various different species,
Tucans, snakes, tigers and many others more,
Gather and revel in the fun,
So much so that they forget their differences,
Both in genus and belief,
Infatuated with the aesthetic of the jungle.
They seem to chant to each other,
In a variety of strange tongues,
Foreign to any human,
Yet just as fascinating to any human,
It is a ritual beyond my comprehension,
Proving that peace does exist,
At least to those we all primitive;
Something incapable to humanity;
Making me evermore guilty of killing that baboon...
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