Venom as Sung by the Bees
We have no skin. The air is the skin we are in.
We may say the subject of Venom begins with perfume and ends with immolation.
As in all things of intense magic there lies within Venom; Death and Medicine.
An expression of Home, Soul Integrity,
the Venom begins with scent, a decision and a dance.
Listen to the song, the roar next, the warning scent, the counting coup,
the First Holy Consectrate, Our Sacrifice, the Tribe.
We sing, scent and dance our edges.
We draw swords should we need them.
That is our nature:
Limitless and eternal edges.
Swirls of patterns and permissions.
Essential Strike and Sacrifice
We preserve and serve our Collective Entity
and in doing so
the Whole of Nature.
Whole Unto Self
The sense of One Being erases Self in such a vast context that
the Self has long ago migrated into the stars,
into the Void of unstruck sound
to become again Universal Bhramari
simple as Daybreak.
Life itself is a sacrificial poem, artifact, an action, a dance done in resolute service.
There is no Self so the heights of joy lie in the Collective Breath
and there is no loss,
only success in the final breaths of the Sacrificial Life of the Bee.
The ultimate death of each individual bee is met in pure and true service
regardless of the manner of death.
That is a Bee’s Nature.
To die nuzzled in a flower, succumbing to an early autumn chill,
to die on-the-way-to-the-sun,
to toil as an immunity nurse,
to lay the final egg is the same
as to die in the burst of venom.
Each is an equal Sacrifice.