I lay and I pondered the Faithwriters topic
And sleepily wondered, if simply quixotic
Or sober was better, or maybe sublime,
Fiction, devotional, free verse or rhyme?
Quiescently drifting, in deep contemplation
Amid the ideas, came visualisation,
Of bees in their hundreds, with rivers of honey
Deliciously sticky, bright golden and runny
From subconscious slumber, I knew I must feature
This wonderful, hard working, smart little creature
But now as I sit in the cold light of the day
I'm scratching my head, knowing just what to say
The deadline is looming
The word count consuming ...
Armed but not dangerous,
Clean and industrious
Bees pull together and work as a team,
Their innate immunity,
Is down to their unity
And total submission, within the regime
But just as we learn from our friends, black and yellow
The zebub, or fly, is a horrible fellow ...
Void of authority,
Death, a priority,
Spreading disease and attracted to dung
Homeless and indolent,
Lives this itinerant,
All out for self, with no thought for his young!
Now I fear, that I've strayed from the topic instructed
By talking of flies, I have wandered off track
Some points will undoubtedly, now be deducted
All hope is diminished, alas and alack
I'll close now by sharing some things I am learning,
In Hebrew, our 'Bee' is akin to 'The Word'
And God's Word is sweet to the wise and discerning
Who savour it's goodness, to taste of the Lord
He said to me, "Son of man, feed your stomach and fill your body with this scroll which I am giving you." Then I ate it, and it was sweet as honey in my mouth. Ezekiel 3:3 NASB
O taste and see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. Psalm 34:8 KJV
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