Impaled on the tigers claw, fighting for a breath and seeing the stripes of the beast melting and fading away into it's foul breath, I lay there struggling, gasping, hoping to fight more. Under the heavy coat of the huge beast, it's muscles ripple and flex, as it holds me in it's jaws, until I cease to struggle.
I meld into the tiger's spirit... we become one... I realize the tiger is me, fierce and gentle, roaring and sweet, terrible and sensitive.
Before the windows of my soul, as I lay quiet and watching the cold winters day outside, I relax and begin to wonder what might be if the upper reaches of stairs to stars might come into reach, and I could bound upward, roaring, playing, pretending to scatter the wandering minstrels upon the trails?
Warmer moments interfere and the ice and snow melt away, leaving the wetness of leaves, earth and concrete as witnesses to what had been and will be again.
The sun looks like a January sun.
Winter will return.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
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