Part I

(The Bee’s Lament)

The blossoms bleed no honey,
only sharp air and bitter light.
I circle fields of glass,
my wings thrumming a dying song.

The wind tastes of metal…
a scent too cold to follow.
Petals close like whispered lies,
offering only empty cups.

The queen’s throne is empty…
a silence heavier than dust.
I am a ghost in a cage of petals,
lost to a world that forgot me.

Once, my wings carried gold,
now they hum a hollow tune.
I chase a memory too distant…
a song swallowed by poisoned skies.