Woken up with a start by the buzz of a honeybee
Little flying creatures collecting pollen, sight to see
Outside the window saw a magnificent honeycomb
Made by hoards of bees and hanging with aplomb

Million of bees working with perfect harmony
Their humming in chorus was sweet symphony
Working in unison, cohesion and flawless design
Producing the everlasting magical nectar divine

Quixotic dreams urged me to arrange and set up assembly line
Where humans working with bonhomie for a product as fine
Enraged mobs of motivated venomous hate started a tragic fire
Burning the beehive full of bees on the tree and my grand desire

In this chaos, seizing the moment and my honey bottle
With loud slogans and energetic chants at full throttle
Emerged a loved leader of the masses, strong and tall
Transforming to land of milk and honey, his clarion call

Soon rancour replaced honey and situation becoming curdled milk
With caucuses of pompous and bloated egos abound in white silk
Unquenchable obsession with power, position, pelf and penny
Only splendid bees blessed and gifted to produce pristine honey.

With passing years hopes for return of my *** of honey faded
In this confusion, searching questions are rhetorically evaded
Goodwill, civility, dialogue and reason have become lost streams
Keep me awake with utopian aspirations and unfulfilled dreams.