the aging, aching tiger

within me, an  aging tiger sleeps,

to soothe away his aching wounds

stripes he's gathered on his soul,

from all the battles he's endured,

some he lost, a few he won,

worn and weary, but not yet done.

oh, he is majestic in his repose,

a living, breathing, brooding power,

a godly passion straining at the leash,

an ancient hunter he still does prowl,

at work in his recurring, primal dreams,

he waits within this heart of mine,

in the lower lairs of my mortal sin.

but then a threat does wander in,

a word from some careless passers-by,

and he jerks awakes,

this tired and tattered tiger,

startled by this danger of what might be,

he raises up his weary bones,

he summons up his fire once more,

he stirs to life his jungle ways,

his civility he then betrays,

he lashes out with fearful claws,

vindictive, self-defensive snarls,

he lifts his graying head and roars,

he is the savage for one moment more,

and then,

when the  threat has heard his ferocious wrath,

he wanders off to hide himself,

in the shadowed place within.














The End

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