It gets darker at night. But when
the sun is gone, the predators are around and the jungle is scarier than ever.
The jungle demands sacrifice; the jungle has no empathy; the jungle plays you
like a puppet.
It gets bloodier as the years pass
by. And the food chain churns and spits out all who fell behind. And just when
you were sure you wanted to leave, the jungle would conjure up an oasis; short
lived but enough to let you prod on for a few more hours.
It gets lonely as you grow old.
The pack you grew up with falls apart, the new wolves no longer are your
brothers, the world belongs to the alpha male who wins; only for a short while
though before his heart gets torn out in a battle. The battle scars are marks
of a fake glory to a fake deity.
It gets godless every passing
moment. There is a restlessness, not for the presence of evil but because in
the jungle, the old gods have left leaving behind a void like no other. And in
the godless darkness there are no rules.
It gets restless as time passes
by. The world needs to be violent to sustain, a mind numbing posturing is what
seems to do the trick for the day and there no longer remains any space for the
wide eyed doe. She has to run, run like the wind all day just to survive, till
the day evolution gives her fangs.
The jungle waits, quiet and
calculating, waiting for the next games to begin.
