To Tame the Beast

~~~ Not entered in a contest ~~~ I knew better than to touch the tail of a tiger, but temptation was only a hair's breadth away. A tiger lies sleeping. My hand, creeping closer, fingers burning. I was yearning for a wish come true. Star light, star bright. What wild jungle do I find myself in? He is beautiful, yet terrifying. I find a paradox in the nature of the beast. A feast I would be in the forests, to this animal, were I to disturb his nap. A mere morsel of human meat. A sweet treat for a magnificent tiger to eat. The one who would dare reach for his tail in light of day or night. There was a thought then thwarted, foolish as it was. What if I soothed the toothed beast with a song? Would I become immortal? A deity without dreading death, if the tiger licked my hand. Would he think of me as a god, his lord, a divine entity, or should I stare deeply into each amber eye to make him understand that I mean no harm? Could I charm him with bravado? I would need courage and the frame of mind to inquire of him, "Would you consider sheathing thy claws, pause your growling and be a friend to me?" I am fearful his beauty and terror may not be balanced in perfect symmetry. Tiger Tiger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? William Blake – The Tiger