The Cave, the Tiger, and the Cell Phone

I was in a cave and my best friend and I were trapped with just one way out, And there was a tiger, And my best friend said lie down and we’ll hide, So we hid, And we were under a grey flannel blanket, And my friend said, “Keep Still”. And so we laid there half asleep for hours, Waiting to be devoured. And my cell phone rung and I knew it was my wife, And I threw the cell phone hoping to distract the tiger, The tiger heard the cell phone, Went to the cell phone, And followed our scent. I laid as still as I could. I laid without fear, but also without the absence of fear. I laid waiting. And the tiger went to my friend and began to lick him. And he began to whimper, And I began to delight in his whimper, for it was not me that the tiger was licking. And I felt the hot breath of the tiger, and was comforted that his hunger in that moment was not for me. And I laid hypnotized by the hot breath of the tiger, mesmerized by the tiger’s comforting touch. But still I did not rejoice, I simply laid still. And the tiger began to chew, And as the tiger chewed I heard my friend whimper, But still, I laid still, waiting in hope, waiting in silent rejoicing, for my opportunity to escape. And I heard my friend stop whimpering, And I felt the hot breath of the tiger beginning to fade, And I looked toward the side of my eye at the tiger beginning to feed, And I jumped up and grabbed my cell phone and bounded for the exit. In the end, when the tiger comes haunting, We are often neither good nor evil, strong nor weak, courageous or cowardly, In the end, when the tiger comes haunting, We are simply slaves of the instinct to survive. And so I hope in God’s freedom. I hope in God’s freedom for me, my friend, and even the tiger. Not because we are so good as to deserve it or so evil as to default to it, But rather because God is neither like me, my friend, or the tiger, But like something so sublime as to love us all.