We see and do things every day that we should not do. Not thinking of who we might be hurting . We also hurt ourselves. In the heat of the moment we do not care. We only want what we want. Not caring if it is right for us or not. The last book...
With a hook or a noose around its jaw "can you catch a crocodile"? With a spike can you pierce its jaws or tie a rope through its nose? Will it employ you for pity or beg you for mercy? Would it agree to work with you? Would you make it a slave for life? Can you make it a pet like a bird, or give it to a little girl to play with? Will merchants buy it? Will they sell their shops? By darts can you hurt its hide, or its head by a harpoon? You will never forget the battle that follows, And you will never try it again, If you lay a hand on it.
It would be useless to try to capture it. A hunter who tries will be thrown down. Who would stand up to it, since no one dares to disturb the crocodile. Would you comfort me and keep me safe? Everything under heaven is mine!
The tremendous strength is in the crocodile's limbs and enormous frame. Who can penetrate its double layer of armor, and strip it of its hide. Who can pry open its jaws? Its teeth are terrible. Its back makes a shield overlapping its scales. No air can get in between because they are close together. Nothing can penetrate them because they lock together.
It flashes light when it sneezes. The eyes are like the red of dawn. From its mouth leaps sparks and fire. Like steam from a boiling pot on a fire of dry rushes smoke streams from its nostrils. Flames shoot from its mouth and its breath would kindle coals.
The strength in its neck strikes terror wherever it goes. The flesh is hard and firm, not soft and fat. Its heart is hard as rock, hard as a millstone. The mighty are afraid and gripped by fear, when it rises. No sword or spear, nor dart nor pointed shaft can stop it. Iron is nothing but straw, and bronze is rotten wood, to the crocodile. Arrows will not make it flee. Stones do not stop it. Clubs are no good, and it laughs at the swish of the javelins. The scales are sharp as glass on its belly. As it drags through the mud they tear up the ground.
With its commotion it makes the water boil. The depths it churns. In its wake the water glistens. You would think the sea had turned white. Nothing else is so fearless on earth. It is the proudest, of all the creatures. The King of Beasts it is!
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