Black birds flew, across a bright blue sky...
Not lions, but battalions
of once-solitary animals --
the remaining tigers --
had proven to be social.
Although gradual, they did emerge
– together – as if contractual.
But their reaction was only natural,
even for such animals of predation
-- of blood --
of relation.
Salvation - they found
through alleviation of self,
via a translation of feelings –
the very same vibrations
that they all felt.
The same inhalations, the same exhalations --
the same preservation --
they all had longed for & sought.
They awoke together constituting a tribe
-- a risen nation -- built upon foundation
far stronger than *pride --
Engineered to escape dismay & damnation
through an ambush on heart ----
attacking "the inside."
From the swamps & the grasslands,
from thick, rainy woods... even down
from the mountains -- they had prowled --
but now stood.
Each - tall, on all-fours.
Diligently, through liberality --
patiently, through humility –
after having followed a trail dotted with notes of morality -
vague striping had now arrived.
Forced to decamp -- to leave --
in a moment - from a moment,
from a place - to a new place,
from home - to a strange place...
had to move on - to relocate,
to a new home – collecting (recollecting) -- like lost pages --
together, through the author's life & death – forever,
as one total tome.
Rather resettle in ferocious & muted memory.
Rather stay (in silence), in caskets
– with all of their wishes -- boxed into a dream -
they awoke, increasing their probability
of survival, of stitching torn seams.
Nectar perfumed -
performing magic – making real such a thing,
re-revealing things wrongly assumed --
saving them within their tome,
rather sealing them within a collective tomb.
A treat for rusted senses – the smell of something so sweet.
Vague striping -- once-hardly seen -- now certain,
\||/
these r --- (@) --- ys
/||\
shined as one streak.
Beasts of orange, white, & black
were accepted by tiny, black & yellow machines
-- striated from dark to light -- the last remaining colony.
The grist of surviving bees had “stood" back in return – buzzing, hovering.
But they had not drawn their lances (or one single line).
They formed a union -- committed to peace --
allowing all sexes to live - all males & females to bee
equal, as if all seen
through one, shared set-- the same set – of eyes.
For here -- in this saved-life -- even in death, no more would die.
Neither workers now born,
nor just one queen.
The colors bled together so --
each sides' striping now ran so deep.
The sides intersected, came together so --
each color was forced to bleed...
...out & die;
or together so -
alternatively, as a whole,
they all could decide
to breathe.
*Black birds flew, across a bright blue sky,
mimicking the colors below –
the honey gold & tiger’s eye.
Ran through it once. Apologies for any errors.
All of my love,
Light
I would also like to thank Papaya for aiding me with this. Any work connected to or following my piece "The Confluence of Tigers & Bees" shall share credit due with this author. I advise you to check them out.
