The Bear and The Sun

The Bear and the Sun

Ten years and no troubles. One close shave, but no troubles. Admittedly, lonely years, but no troubles. Then, one dance later, and I am up to my ears in it: trouble of my own making. But so you know, if the gods allow, yet I would do that dance again, and again, and again.

I am the Bear. Awakening from the long hibernation, I should have been more careful. For the eagerness of new things to be seen, to be experienced; not coupled with care; is a sure recipe for disaster. The hunger, though it exists, is not as bad as one feels it. The desire, though it is real, needs to be explored cautiously. I looked up at the Sun and saw it was young and new. Strong and bright. Beautiful. And for a moment, I thought it shined only for me. But I was mistaken. I thought that the gods had finally opened their ears, heard my suplications, looked down upon the earth, seen my upturned face, and cast their blessings with the changing seasons to rest upon my weary brow and quicken my sluggish gait. But I was mistaken. The gods are just as feckless as the mortals that pay them obeisance. For though you shed a thousand tears, what is that to the gods? Who have fiddled with men’s destinies and drunk mortal blood of both the faithful and the faithless alike. Therefore, just as once before, standing by my lonesome self, “here I am.”


The Bear and The Sun

I did not know it
That I was the bear
I had slumbered deep within the earth for as long as I can remember
Not even the little ones that danced under the starry skies
Making music fit for gods
Could wake me from my fitful sleep

But seasons change
And time goes by
The Sun came out
Young and new
And cast its light where shadows hide
So I awoke
And basked in its warmth

The seasons rolled by once again
And I would not shut my eyes in sleep
I wanted the Sun for myself
I did not care if it shed its rays on others
I wanted it in my little hole
Deep within the frozen ground

But the sun cannot be held
Except it so desires
Its brilliance dazzles the mind
When it wends its way across the skies
Evening will find it in repose wherever it chose

So I will retreat again
And dream of the Sun
Shining bright up in the sky
Dazzling rich and pauper alike
Just beyond reach
But quickening mere mortal men’s breathes across the land

Maybe the seasons will change again
And it will once more shed its light
And warmth to stir my drowsy limbs

Perchance it will come to stay
And shine its light upon my lonely brow
And cause a smile
That has not drawn my lips
Nor stretched my face
For many a winter’s night

I want the Sun . . .

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