Unveiling the Bee in the Sacred Feminine
I am the things that are,
that will be, and that have been.
No one has ever laid open the garment
by which I am concealed.
The fruit which I brought forth
was the sun.
Look how desire has changed in you,
how light and colorless it is,
with the world growing new marvels
because of your changing.
Your soul has become an invisible bee.
We don't see it working,
but there's the full honeycomb.
Your body's height, six feet or so,
but your soul rises through nine levels of sky.
A barrel corked with earth
and a raw wooden spile
keeps the oldest vineyard's wine inside.
When I see you,
it is not so much your physical form,
but the company of two riders,
your pure-fire devotion and your love
for the one who teaches you.
Then the sun and moon on foot behind those.