Worker Bee

🎵 Worker Bee Born in a chamber of amber and gold Hexagon cradle, a story untold The walls were a heartbeat of wings in the dark A thousand soft bodies, a single bright spark I chewed through the capping and stepped into light The hive was a furnace alive with its might No name for myself and no choice to be free Just the hum of a purpose awakening in me The queen was a scent on the breath of the air A river of meaning that flowed everywhere I am the worker, one note in the swarm Held by the hive through the cold and the warm I give what I gather, I carry, I build An ocean of hunger that never is filled No throne and no glory belong unto me Just the dance and the duty of being a bee I fed newborn sisters with jelly and brood Measured their future through labor and food I fashioned white palaces dripping from me Cathedrals of wax for the honey to be I ripened sweet nectar with thousands of fans Turning the flowers to wintertime plans Day after day in the dark of the comb Serving a kingdom I barely called home Yet beyond the entrance there shimmered a glow A world that the elders already would know I am the worker, one note in the swarm Held by the hive through the cold and the warm I give what I gather, I carry, I build An ocean of hunger that never is filled No throne and no glory belong unto me Just the dance and the duty of being a bee Then came the morning I lifted in flight The sun was my compass, the fields were alight The clover and lavender painted the breeze I landed like rain on a million green seas I carried the gold of the blossoms I found And spoke of their riches through movement and sound The angle, the distance, the promise of spring Translated to circles and figure-eight wings But thunder can scatter a forager wide And hornets can wait where the flowers reside The poison of men on a bright summer day Can silence a sister and carry her away My wings slowly frayed at the edge of the sky Each journey demanding a little more life Yet every return through the gathering dusk Brought sweetness and hope to the chambers of trust I am the worker, one note in the swarm Held by the hive through the cold and the warm I gave what I gathered, I carried, I built An ocean of hunger forever fulfilled No throne and no glory belonged unto me Just the dance and the duty of being a bee Now the wind feels heavier under my wings The flowers grow distant and softer their sings I won't see the winter we're storing away But that's how the hive learns to live past a day So I rest in the meadow where wild blossoms bend No monument marks me, no songs at the end Yet somewhere behind me the young workers rise And the hum that made me survives when I die