The Silent Stride of the Tiger
Through moonlit jungles, deep and wide,
A shadow moves with silent stride.
Golden eyes like embered flame,
A ghost that none can dare to tame.
The wind may whisper, leaves may dance,
Yet none shall catch his fleeting glance.
Striped in fire, cloaked in night,
A monarch born of primal might.
Rivers pause and trees stand tall,
When echoes sound his thunderous call.
A hunter’s patience, sharp and keen,
A sovereign soul, both fierce and serene.
No chains can hold, no walls restrain,
His spirit runs like untamed rain.
The jungle kneels, the night resounds—
For he is king where none are bound.
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