The beast, quiet as a mouse
Stalks the prey in the night.
When all is dark, he ventures out
To realise his karma.
The rhythm of his paws
Only to be imagined
As he pads through softly .
The moon peeps from behind the clouds
A glint of those razor sharp claws
All is over.
A spectrum of nature.
Till the roar announces his prize
And the night is still again.
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