The Bear

A bear roams about a desolate cave

without sense of purpose or direction.

Only to stop feeling so bare it craves

someone’s understanding and affection,

And yet those who care are soon scared away

by the wild and wretched look in its eye.

If only they knew they need not be afraid

for the look is of a bear needing to cry.

So the bear’s own distressing depression

makes it roam further into the lonely hole.

It’s own sadness a cage of oppression

with hard granite bars noone can console.

Would it be better to tame the bear

and take away all pain, but all desire?

Or to let the bear roam wild and care

in the blind hope of finding love’s fire?