Lov’ed souls connect by destiny’s hand,
As a lily who to fore’er bloom she dared.
Yet lady fate had all along planned,
For her to wither with an Autumn prayer.
O Life’s winding path, erratic but true,
Like a rosethorn since dulled by tepid air;
Or fire of love frozen o’er to blue,
Doth old hearts be wracked by a mem’ry’s affair.
And when mere mortals dare a man thus scorned
(Who by their fear dissuade God-given dreams)
Might rather beckon Earth to stop her turn,
O’er by thread and point sew Etna in seams.
Doubters, who all but claim “cannot” and “can,”
Too oft forget the Will and Heart of Man.
This burden is for one alone to bear,
And a bear does not complain.
But to hibernate in the hist’ry books,
The bear without a name.
