
In the forest
Of tigers
Moonlight tumbles across
The enchanted lake.
Death and life pinned
In the tiger’s paws
In her jaws,
In her wide, clawed feet.
The silent
Shadow that can never be understood
Stirred
In the tree
In the murmuring wood.
Ancient beings walk free
In their domain
Awake
In the pounding rain
Until the sun returns, majestic one,
In the living flowers
Of the earth,
Or in the thick mist
Clasped by the mountain
In the wind of time.
Yet,
Even the dissonant
Dust
Of gray, pedestrian powers
Seeps into the furrow
Of being
Deluding perception, inflicting loss,
Eclipsing
Reality
With soul-bending lies that deny
The great ones,
That bring about death and distrust.
Yet,
In the end,
May the dust be as it is meant to be,
Footfalls of the tiger go
Undeterred
In the bells of sunset
Until truth turns and the moon rises in another far-off clime
In a brighter, radiant night
In the light
Of Shiva’s trident
In the sky.
By Sharon St Joan
© Sharon St Joan, 2020
Thank you, Cindy! Yes, that went through my thoughts as well – “Tiger, Tiger, burning bright”
How beautiful this is!
Reminds me of “Tiger, Tiger, burning bright”