Do lions fear? Owning the jungle, walking tall, do they actually fear something? Not be known,losing their pride,dying ? Because when they feel hungry, they hunt and no one hunts better than them. When their territory is threatened they still hunt to prove that their era is not yet over.
The pain is excruciating, the fear is numbing, the wings want the spread, but they are tied.Wanting to break free, but cant. Knowing he is born to win but not knowing how to do it,terrifies him, sends shivers down his spine. The constancy of the heartbeat sounding like cymbals in his ear makes him loose his poise, his concentration. The sleepless nights, the sweaty mornings, the cold palms, add to the internal pandemonium. His serene demeanor hides the whirlpool of thoughts.
The soothing rain cannot quench his thirst, the warm sun does no good to the dampened inside.The fears cloud his vision,his roar is no more than a squeak. He walks through the night under the moon each night, his mane swaying in the wind. He climbs a hill,loses his breath, runs some more till he reaches the summit. He looks at the moon and roars. It makes them shiver like the winter chill, but he is not sure.
A slight sound makes him twitch, he cannot believe it.He growls, may be in fear. His eyes shrink, he smells nothing. It creeps into him. he can sense it.. What is it, he is the king, what does he fear? But he does. He paces again,this time not as frantic as the last. He wants to know. Picks up speed, runs miles before he stops.He feels it coming. Runs again.He feels like the hunted.
Cold sweat runs along his sides,the night wind cannot dry it, because he thinks it has conspired against him too. He is now far from his pride and his lair, into the open. He must get courage,he reminds himself he is the king.He runs more,even further,even faster. Now more confidant. its almost dawn, the slight redness of the sky falls directly into his eyes. he runs towards it. The chill is slowly depleting, the fear is fading.
The sun has come up and so has he, only to find bright green lands with his prey right in front of him.So many of them, he takes guard, he bends down, smells the prey and slowly moves towards it. Not a rustle, not a sound, even his breath is controlled.He locks his eyes on one and leaps.The prey is no match to his skills and power. He digs his claws into it. And his fangs take the neck. One blow is enough. This reinstates his confidence.His razor sharp teeth dig deep. The King won yet again.
He rests, feels triumphant.One paw on the carcass and his eyes looking directly into the sun. He roars.
Yes, he fears every night, but bounces back at dawn, Only kings can do that. Only he can!
But, He Fears!