An idea born in the Indian jungle

Sleeping Tiger

Sleeping Tiger

In the sleeping stillness of death
Lay the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
My hand reached out to touch his thick fur,
Caressing his redundant heart.
The jungle king looked calm. Even through he had lost his supremacy to another,
And his crown bore two deep holes where running blood congealed.
I was not prepared for this encounter to touch me so deeply.
It was like a small part of his spirit met mine
Like a butterfly dancing on my heart. And from that day on,
I would have tigers coursing through my veins, giving me an inner strength,
To revere, promote and help protect this incredibly beautiful creature.

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