and the worker bee found the most precious nectar
from the sweetest flowers
to bring to his queen, to make a feast
to make a home, to prepare a way
to be faithful and to know what it was born to do
a bee knows of faithfulness,
but what does it know of love.
faithfulness to duty, loyalty to instinct.
but what of decision?
I'm trying desperately to hear every word,
to hang on every word,
to hold the path of my wild father,
to wrap myself in the roar of his justice and laughter
to find and follow in his weighty footsteps
flood my ears with such sounds and I love to love,
but I am terrified of what it looks like-- of loving well
of trusting such a ferocious beast. What of adventure?
where the ship waters stir is none of my concern,
I am to know when I get there, that my months of stranded at sea
were months that trained me in my practice,
my profession of devoted watchman.
to stay awake the long nights keeping guard,
and he calls me faithful. just to do the very thing I was born to do.
to watch for my love in the night.
the very voice that spoke the sea to being
the same now speaks my name.
his voice is a strong wind that comes to shake
the foundations of the earth.
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