“The Lion in Blue”

In the dark where silence breathes,
A face of quiet power weaves—
A lion, pale as winter’s flame,
With eyes that glow but hold no name.

A crown of white, no gold, no throne,
Yet strength enough to stand alone.
Each line so sharp, each gaze so true,
Reflected in a ring of blue.

Like splashes cast from stars unseen,
An aura wild, electric, clean—
It hums with something deep and old,
A silent story never told.

He does not roar, he does not fight,
Yet owns the shadow, owns the light.
A king not bound by land or pride,
But by the storm he holds inside.

And in his eyes, so calm, so bright,
Lies endless dusk and endless night—
A universe both fierce and still,
Bent softly to his quiet will.

So there he waits, in dark confined,
Not lost—but watching humankind.
A symbol drawn in lines so few,
Yet louder than the loudest hue.

The lion in blue, both fierce and wise—
A storm contained behind calm eyes.

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