The Hidden One.
The Leopard
He walks alone through forest deep,
Where secrets rest and shadows sleep.
With rosettes wrapped in golden sheen,
He melts into the jungle green.
He climbs with ease, a ghost in trees,
And hauls his prey through bough and breeze.
No boast, no roar, no need for fame,
The quiet hunter needs no name.
At dusk he drinks where waters glide,
Then fades again, no trace, no guide.
So few will see, but all may learn:
True power waits, it does not yearn.
O Lord of light, of fur and limb,
This silent marvel sings Your hymn.
Through leopard’s grace and hidden way,
Your quiet wisdom speaks today.