With a sparkle in eyes,
legs taut, eyes tense,
the tiger stalks its prey;
Not for it pangs of remorse,
doubt, fears of disgrace;
No need to live by digging
a friend’s grave, survive in
the jungle, with scheming brain;
No time for vests of conceit,
to repel reproof and pain;
Seek fresh vistas of thought,
in a world cased in deceit;
Spurred by waves of gut emotion,
unalloyed, set on a target,
the tiger awaits its prey.
Another will cross its way.

Scales aglow, tail up in joy,
it breaks into a rhythmic run,
looking around in gay abandon.
Feet sturdy as the tree,
nature’s bounty in its veins,
spits venom on all- death and God.
Be it fury of nature and foes
faces them with a cold stare;
And leaves, in death’s throes
footprints of untamed power.