In days when moonlight kissed the streams,
And mountains whispered warrior dreams,
There dwelt a Bear, both wise and bold,
With fur like night and heart of gold.
He roamed the peaks of Allegheny,
Where fog hung thick and pines grew many.
Not beast alone, nor mortal man,
But wizard wrought by primal plan.
With staff of birch and eyes of flame,
The forest spirits knew his name.
The rivers sang it, low and long,
The wind would shape it into song.
He spoke in tongues the hawks could hear,
And bade the elk draw ever near.
The thunder bent to heed his spell,
And snow obeyed where silence fell.
They say he walked with Iroquois,
And taught their seers the sacred joys—
Of star-born fire and leaf-born balm,
Of battles stilled with forest calm.
A silver crown of moss he wore,
With antlered crest from days of yore.
He kept the peace ‘twixt beast and man,
When blood had stained the hunting span.
But darkness came from distant coasts,
With iron hearts and hungry hosts.
They tore the woods, they dammed the streams,
And mocked the Bear’s old forest dreams.
He rose in smoke, a wrathful shade,
The trees themselves his mighty blade.
Yet mercy held his roaring hand,
For love still bound him to the land.
One final time, he sang his spell—
A lullaby the mountains tell.
Then vanished in a burst of light,
Beyond the veil of mortal sight.
Now when the fireflies dance in June,
And owls cry low beneath the moon,
The elders say, “Speak soft. Take care.
You walk the realm of Wizard Bear.”
-Bearz