Keep

on
Believing
Zenaida Balatbat
Illustrated by Xxxxxx Xxxxxxxx
It was a lovely summer day,
The sun-drenched meadow was alive in every way,
Birds fluttering in the air, singing in the trees,
Flowers soaking in the sun, dancing in the breeze.
The grass, a green carpet, stretching for miles,
White fluffy clouds dotting the blue skies,
Insects playing a harmony of sounds,
Little critters going on their merry rounds.
All of nature was alive and glad,
Unmindful of a small bee looking so sad,
Thinking each one had an important task to do,
While he had nothing, aimless as he flew.

He went to a corner where stood an oak tree,

“You look so powerful and mighty,
Against the storm you’re sturdy and strong,
Among the greatest, that’s where you belong.
You spread your branches wide,
For all who need rest; your shade is your pride.
I wish I were like you, So robust and so useful too.”
Across the meadow rang the oak’s laughter,
“You can’t give shade, you can’t survive in bad weather,
You’re too small and frail – just go and play.”
The bee was quiet; then he sadly flew away.
He hovered over a flower and said,
“You are the loveliest flower ever created.
The wind carries your fragrance wherever it blows,
And talks about your beauty wherever it goes.
With the birds and the butterflies you play,
They love you and you all have fun all day.
I wish I were like you, So lovely and so fragrant too!”
The flower replied in a haughty voice,
“Beauty and fragrance - enough reasons to rejoice,
No doubt, I’m luckier than you, so stop bothering me.”
He hung his head and he started to flee.

On a branch, a bird was chirping,

“That’s a delightful song you’re singing.
You definitely make the world come alive,
The joy you bring makes people thrive.
You spread cheer on a gloomy day,
And you drive melancholy away.
I wish I were like you,
So cheerful and so carefree too.”
Taunting and laughing, the bird said,
“Good cheer and gaiety you can’t spread,
You look too glum - stop wasting my time.”
The bee left, feeling the sun had lost its shine.
A butterfly fluttered by, then flew back,
“Sweet butterfly, is there anything you lack?
You have the most delightful colours,
To artists you’ve opened doors,
You adorn landscapes in their mind,
You’re so graceful and so elegant, I find.
I wish I were like you,
So pretty with luxurious colours too.”
The butterfly, throwing her head back chuckling said,
“I’m delicate; in my presence people lightly tread.
A treasure you’ll never be - now get out of my way.”
So the bee hurried out of there without delay.

He decided, farther away he’d fly,

Far from reminders of life passing him by.
Sadder still he became when he looked around,
Nature was bustling, in the air and on the ground.
“I’ll never be part of this,” he said.
“Nothing to contribute, a worthless life I’ve led.”
Dispirited, he hung his head and cried.
“I don’t belong anywhere,” he sighed.
Just then he heard a soft voice calling,
It was a low-hanging cloud gently beckoning.
He approached the cloud with great trepidation,
Wanting to be alone in his woeful condition.
“Why do you look so sad?” the cloud asked.
“I was looking around me and I was aghast,
All have something to give, they make others happy.
They light up the world with their God-given beauty,
Whereas, I have no important role,
Useless creature, without purpose nor goal.
In this big wide world I have no place,
I’m just marking time and taking up space.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” the cloud interrupted.
“We all have a purpose for being created.
You just have to believe, really believe,
And the truth you’ll surely receive.”

The bee gave his friend a happy expectant look,

And the cloud could read his new friend’s face like a book.
“Hop on my back,” he said. “I’ll take you up to the skies,
But first, I want you to close your eyes.”
Up and away they went amidst ecstatic cries,
The bee’s dismal mood dispelled by his friend so wise.
“Now open your eyes,” the cloud said after a while,
The bee did as he was told, this time with a smile.
They were sailing across the heavens
As he surveyed the earth as through a lens.
“It’s so pretty from here!” exclaimed the bee.
“You gaze at this sight everyday; indeed you’re lucky!”
“I see bountiful fields ready for the harvest;
Flowers, butterflies, birds, trees - nature at its best!”
The cloud asked, “Do you see little bees like you?”
“I can almost hear them buzzing. Yes, I do!”
“What do they look like from here?”
“As busy as everyone around, it’s clear.”
The bee was beside himself, admiring the scene,
Speechless with the truth he was beginning to glean.
“Everything God created is beautiful, you see,
Including you and me, that’s what He made us to be.
Before this, your eyes were blind, your heart was wounded,
Believed everyone’s life but yours was charmed and gilded.”

The cloud continued as his friend listened intently,

“We each have our gifts and we live accordingly.
So no one is more important than the other,
No one God loves more than another.”
“But I have no skills, no talent unlike the rest.”
“My friend, you’ve forgotten what you do best.
Because of you, the flowers bloom,
Beauty all around lifts up the gloom.
Fields burst with plentiful harvest,
You share God’s work of creation at its best.
You and your friends keep the cycle of life alive,
For nature and for humans alike.
For your God-given gifts, always be thankful,
Share them - that’s the key to a life that’s full.”
His sadness lifted, the bee hopped back on the cloud,
To return to earth restored, full of purpose, no doubt.