A poem by the Bear reflecting his thoughts on previous post, The Limits of Truth.
Once there was a china pope,
Put on the shelf with care.
That others might not lose their hope,
From handling by a Bear.
The china pope was shaped so odd,
No flowers seemed to fit.
And though it was a gift from God,
Yet on the shelf must sit.
And if the honey jar should break,
And golden treasure fall,
The Bear must never dare to make
Any use of it at all.
Do not handle, do not touch
the china pope, you see,
Don't even speak of it too much
It's best to let it be.
For with its china eyes it sees,
With china ears it hears,
But if it holds the golden keys,
Then please, explain my fears,
And why it sits high on a shelf,
Beyond the careless paw,
If it cannot defend itself
How can it change the law?
But tiptoe past the china pope,
As fragile as egg shell,
It's what we have and we must hope,
It conquers gates of Hell.