cared stiff,
the day I encountered
a huge cobra
inside the womb of the wood.
Chill did envelope my whole spine,
as the frightened creature fled
and later
staged a comeback.
Stood still, before me
with its neck flattened.
Looked beautiful and fearsome,
but behind its beauty
a lethal venom resides.
Gazed at me,
with scary piercing eyes,
as if questioning,
my unwarranted intrusion
into its exclusive sanctuary.
Instead of composing
my obituary before the deadly cobra,
I dismissed it
with caressing eyes,
and friendly smile,
passed on to me,
by my grandfather,
a noble pagan philosopher,
and watched as
it slithered away into the wood.
I do owe the cobra,
my horrified admiration.