A slosh of the ocean’s spit
spilled over into the lion’s cave.

He roared at the Earth-baby’s spit up
And stretched his neck,
his head all circle-motion.

The roar shook the water
till it crawled backwards
into its limitless self.

I’ll never leave here. I’ll never let anything in.
The lion shook his orange mane and rolled onto his back to sprawl against his stony floor.

Suddenly, he heard a wheezing hiss from a corner of his cave.

What could it be?! he wondered.
His criss-cross, matted fur dragged as he rolled over back onto his feet.

A fish, shaking and thrashing and convulsing,
lay helpless.
He had been dragged in by the wave of the ocean.

The lion heard his tummy grumble.
Food has come to me!
But the hissing became less and the fish felt dry.

What if I die here?

I will die here.

Lion looked upon him and considered him.
I should hunt. I am a noble and great creature. And this pitiful fish is stuck.
But what he really needed to ask himself was
Am I a merciful being?