The Buddha and The Bee


A white bright sun arched high in the sky on a day that no one intended.
And a song sung low in a valley just below seemed to cause quite the stir that suspended
A bee on a quest within later morning mist making travel rather humid but transcending.
Seeking clarity and purpose within a rather tight circumference around a hive where his Queen lay pretending


To think just of he among a thousand buzzing bees who worked just for her and for her purpose.
Of sweetening her cove a thousand bees could surely sow all she coveted yet owed a higher presence.
Watching higher from above yet still below but yet undone was its stated love to her and all her science.
Said The Buddha to the bee “I see you haven’t quite yet seen that what you want can be gained only through your conscience.”


The Queen never quite suspected all her actions were rejecting the very clover that would secure the highest nectar.
Until the little bee that set alight against a sea of dreams of her arrived only just to kiss her.
So against a tremor hummed ever so peaceful as a drum struck by angel wings within a cloud of thunder
Came a gesture cast just so, ever so quiet yet still aglow with a heart of honey gold and oh so tender.


“I have traveled all this way just to greet my Queen this day with a sweetness that I’ve carried for her pleasure.”
Said The Buddha to the bee “Now speak you so carefully and don’t cast away the gift that you just surrendered.”
And the Queen she hesitated while her bee levitated over thoughts rinsed yet still suddenly quite anchored
In her practicality resting on ledges called just dreams of a higher life than even she might have contented.


“I am lucid as deep blue sea” was his solemn soliloquy as he danced and prayed and loved her from a distance.
In his honeystomach core resided absolutely more than his heart could possibly store of the sweetness
That he carried just for her in high hopes that he might stir in her the love that he wished would surround them.
Just like fireflies at dusk, knowing they are the ones who must cast aglow what might otherwise be dimmed.


“Find your patience in the tide, while living quiet to abide by the centeredness subscribed,” said The Buddha.
“Make such wishes warm and red and terra cotta overfed in hues so deep and rich your thoughts can become muted.”
A higher place on earth nestled on porches under north of where the wind might keep bees far from such pollen
As required to attain the simple status of some cane of sugar harvested and stored by the fallen.


So The Buddha and the bee sat beneath the noble tree under which lie the notions of a life reflective.
Quiet all sounds remained through all memories retained from a lifetime including his recent transcendence.
It was a pause to which he agreed this otherwise hopeful restless bee of all the energy causing static in his wings.
Asking silence from the strain the chaos flattery disdain and sequencing of mottled daydreams and such things.


Queens and Buddhas know of bees what stops flight alight what seems to be rising out of flowers herbs and clover.
What the one knows though is sudden fleeting ever so brief and undone against time and space and oceans all turned over.
More enduring and amazed requires stillness just like flakes of snow as cold is taken away by sun-warmed windows
Evaporating in mid air never regretting what was shared around the wandering dancing cascading quarter notes.


Finally it seemed to become clear within the bee that The Buddha’s words travel well as unpacked satchels.
Covered latches buckles ropes all enclosing sacred lotus humming smiles laid on silk of spider’s crafting.
His Universe of nectar had resolved itself and set upon ancient statues overlooking histories replete
With scrolls of doubt and wonder sojourns still within and under all beloved aspirations incomplete.


(Chase down the last little white man here)

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