"...AND THE KING DIES" : Wildlife, India

"I love this wild, it is so pure,
this place of nature's splendor.
But as I watch the magnificent beast,
with his slow majestic walk,
before him all is still.

He stops and stares across the land
and I watch in breathless wonder
as he lifts his head, but the danger looms
the eagles screech their warning.

The air is still, he looks,
this mighty creature is thoughtful.
A distant crack, a hunter's cry,
The bullet finds its home.

The king is down, his eyes are closed,
his breath is clearly fading.
As clouds race by,
the sun breaks through,
but the anger in me raging,
as one last time he tries to rise
but its clear the life is expiring.
In deep despair I try to speak
but my heart is full of pain.

The bird sings its mournful song,
it sounds like nature's crying.
The king is dead, he is no more.
Oh! How I hate this world."