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The night in view of a tiger

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Orbs resembling royal fabrics- rich mulberry wine, flecks of fireflies dilated in their primal innocence. Lips curved in soft awes in wonder, just shy of surprise. The starry night sky became the planes of Africa, each constellation a gazelle to chase, shimmering glow an unattainable beauty in their own right.
The pulse in perfect rhythm to the pounding of his limbs beneath him, wails of an urchin child, unwanted and unloved could transform into throaty hymns, downed by the bustling city to fade outside and beyond their neon lights.
Until the tiger’s worn paws can no longer run, he will stagger with the moon held high when his chin cannot. The will to live is just as natural as the pull of gravity that embraces him. The massive frame, now frail with no game to show for the miles traveled - he becomes a cub once more, as fail as a human boy, with complexion illuminating shadows, platinum locks, weave through the soil.
Blades of greenery, earthy familiarity of tussling dirt and sweat entrance his nostrils, tickling scarred cheeks to coax a smile.
Lashes flutter closed while he dreams of future happiness and a dream of freedom- something all creatures crave.