just a bee and me

conscienceness

the good the bad and the ugly

come to me

as i stare out the window

colors i can taste

i can feel,

they come at me

they command my attention

i can absorb them into myself

i can eat them

soft,

like velvet and wax

colors i can see

right through my window,

and touch and smell and taste,

pink and red and yellow

and green

right outside my window

as i take a bit of time to rest

and contemplate

deep green almost black green

like a jungle forest

bright

green black

in a sea of red flowers

peace in a sea of things on land

the late bee forages for pollen

through my window,

i see her still working at 6 p.m.,

in the western hemisphere,

119 west longitude

by 39 degrees north latitude

no, she doesn't stop

while many sleep

or waste time

in mindless routine

gazing at things that don't yield

no returns of goodness

like staring at a blank wall

in a flourescent lit institution

with stifling walls

and the smell of wood alcohol

no, the bee flits

from crysanthemum to crysanthemum,

she doesn't stop

she pays no heed to the end of times

and the woes that befall mankind

she will work 'til the end of the age and beyond

that is her destiny,

she will gather pollen

even in the midst of halocaust

she will never be a maurading hornet,

taking,

never giving,

pillaging honey nests

killing honey bees

like maurading hornets

she is a honey bee

though evil mixed with good continues on,

she will work

oblivious to any dread of storm or upheaveal

i stare out the window

at gathering clouds

feels and smells a little bit like rain

let it

i,

like the beee

don't care

let others destroy,

i will plant

i will love

i will live

i will lay me down and think

i will work while it still is day