I am Mowgli who has slain the beast,
that great tiger who promised to devour me.
I dance upon his corpse for the battle is won,
and I am triumphant.
But the wolves I imagine have come alive.
I can see their eyes glowing from the shadows around me,
like hot embers from a dying flame.
I want to run but where can I turn?
There is no hope of escaping them,
and even if I could where would I go?
Society has cast me from their ordered neatness,
into the depths of this Stygian jungle.
The sight of me was offensive to the civilized,
and I had no desire to become one of them,
so they drove me away, into the forest.
But I am an outcast here as well,
waiting to be broken down by nature,
and returned to the dust.
Will I ever find peace?
The situation I find myself in reflects my inner turmoil.
The calmness of my features belies the emotion raging within.
My uncertainties and the insecurity I feel are the essence of my being.
The wolves draw closer now.
I can see the drool slathered on their mighty jaws,
dripping from cruel fangs.
Is this the end?
Is this how I finally attain the peace that has eluded me all these years?
I am ready.
My eyes close and I feel something I thought was lost to me.