Compass

Once upon a time
there were 5 little bears
deep in a green, green forest,
spending their lifetime
growing rosemary and thyme
taking care of their affairs
and listening to the chorus
of a hundred bees
all surrounded by a thousand trees.

The little bear,
the youngest of the three,
remembered one far memory:
of a time he was so small he could not speak
wearing yellow pants, a yellow hat,
his mother leaned over, kissed him on the cheek,
she smiled bright and said:
“Don’t you look great in your favourite colour?”
But the little bear pondered all week:
“I might not know what favourite colour means,
but at night I’m wearing blue in my dreams.”

The little bear
the youngest of the three
remembered one far memory:
When he came up with his first joke
all he wanted was to make his sister giggle,
just a simple laughter, may it be the tiniest little.
But she stopped, waited, and instead
she shook her head and said:
“Should this be funny?
Better keep watering the herbs
You little dummy
and spare us your words.”
But the little bear pondered all week:
“I might not know what funny may mean,
but it brings a smile on my face
as bright as no one’s never seen,
makes me giggle, makes me beam.”

Father bear and mother bear
and their children
all with furry hair,
sometimes visited by a pilgrim.
They offered him a chair
and a glass of honey wine.
He was telling stories about lands far away,
the ocean and the coastline.
And the youngest of the three
said: “I’ll live there one day,
go fishing and swim in the sea.
I might not know what ocean means,
but it makes me smile
and it haunts me in my dreams.
I’ll keep dreaming for a while
but I’ll go there with all means.”

The pilgrim always left, but always reappeared.
He did not bring no gold, no goods,
but once a year he wandered through the woods
where sunshine’s blackened by big trees
and never reached the mossy ground.
All year long the little bear feared
that the pilgrim may had drowned…

But he always came back to tell him more
about broad sunshine when clouds would clear,
about the oceans and the shore.
And the little bear pondered,
he smiled and wondered:
“I might have never seen the sun shine bright,
but one day I’ll watch it rise.
I’ll sit all day and watch its move.
I’ll sit and just enjoy the sight
of its beauty in the skies.”

The Pilgrim once gave a book
to the little bear to make him read
about his stories he had written down.
But the little bear’s head shook,
he couldn’t help it but to frown.
And he said: “I cannot read.
Here in the woods
none of your stories we’ll ever forget,
but we don’t know anything about the alphabet.
And we never know when you will come,
we might know that the clock is round
and when you sing we’ll sing along,
we might know that a year is long,
but we don’t know how to count.”

Father bear and mother bear
they both agreed:
those stories were nice to share
but that there was no need to read.
That there was no need for written words,
no need for books and not for dreams.
“Stop asking and don’t be daring”.
But the little bear pondered
and he wondered
how life may be in distant lands :
“I might not know how deep the ocean is,
but I want to hear it roar and hear it swish.
I might not know how far I’ll need to go,
but I won’t stop till I see the reflected sun glow
on the surface of the ocean and its flow.
I can’t read books and cant read maps
and maybe you’re right and I’ll get lost,
and you’d be right,perhaps,
telling me I’m not acting smart.
I don’t know what my dreams might mean,
but I know them well, and forget them nevermore.
I’ll follow rivers and follow streams,
I may can’t tell you what I’m looking for,
but I’ll follow rivers – and I’ll follow my heart.”

One day the little bear,
he wasn’t so small anymore,
but still with furry hair
and still dreaming bout the shore,
about the ocean’s sound
that he was told about.
He decided to put those books on his shelf,
to go out in the world
and believe in himself.
He kissed each bear on the cheek,
he smiled and said : “I don’t know for how long,
but don’t expect me back by next week.”
He packed his bag and put on blue shoes,
he turned around, but didn’t know which way to choose.
The other bears smirked and said:
“Well, make up your head!”
One , it was his mother, told him to go west.
One, it was his father, told him to go east.
One, it was his brother, told him to go north.
And as if this wasn’t enough, the forth,
it was his sister, told him: “You’ll get blisters!
You don’t need the ocean’s sound, listen to our birds,
Listen to me, just stay and water the herbs!”
The little bear hesitated while his excitement just increased.
He smiled and lay his hand on his chest:
“I might not know what you are talking about,
but I can feel and hear my heart
– so loud –
it’ll be my compass and my guard.”

When the trees thinned out
he was blinded by the sun.
He stopped and felt some doubt,
he felt an urge to run.
But he lay his hand on his chest,
he felt his heart and its strength,
and knew he’ll keep to wander
while not knowing his journey’s length.
His eyes adapted and he began to see
and turned to where there was no tree.

On a night when the stars shone bright
after a long day of walking, it was late.
He came to a tent filled with music and joy,
he was invited to join and to celebrate.
A couple dressed in black and white
was dancing in the middle of the crowd.
All dressed up, they raised their glasses,
the father said out loud
totally happy and totally proud:
“Lay aside your worries and your phones…
Drink up to the married ones!
Today it’s their day.
Let’s dance and do more thereof,
Let’s dance and let’s drink to their love!”
The little bear pondered while he danced:
“I might not know what love may mean,
what they feel nor what they say,
but I will wonder and I will glean,
because I want to dance like this one day
and smile at somebody just like they.”

Many miles he had been gone,
had been climbing, slipping, falling.
His shoes got dirty but he’d cotton on
the lesson he valued more than others:
He’ll get up on his feet
without the help of his brothers.
They could never tell him to go east or west,
and never what to need.
Just as much as they couldn’t feel
his beating loving heart in his chest.
Just as much as they never could
tell what to dread nor what to dream,
or to love the ocean or the wood.
He himself he could not tell
why he loved the ocean,
its sound, its smell.

The little bear, he reached the shore
after a long day walking, till late afternoon.
Amazement and pure joy flushed his heart –
He stood and stared and loved it even more
with a surface reflecting the stars and the moon.
He stood and stared and loved it even more
than he had imagined at the start.

He sat and listened to the waves:
“Yet, I might not know the alphabet…”
He drank up his cup – feeling glad …
“I might just know that
waves and stories make me smile…”
he sat and thought for a while…
“I will get lost and not act smart”
but now he smiled so even brighter,
because he knew: “I’ll be a writer.”
But the bears in the woods
he knew he’d never be understood,
because they never swam in the ocean.
They would never know what he’d need,
because they could not feel his heart
and because they could not read.

little bear

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