A glare! A million hexagon reflections. A thumping -
within a yellow and black fury coat, frightfully
panicked wings. One heart with one name
calling. Praying... Deeply praying. Inward humming

A tremor. A battle against mocking flames,
Bloody orange and deathly red,
smoking high tides
into the unbelievers' destroyed skies,
a ballet of evil, misguidance for one too many failures,

At peak, measly whimpering. A million tears from
hexagons falling but a mist. Its mouth peeps
and a tiny droplet of water
falls upon the monstrous crimson
streaks, as the bee cries in anguish and Nimrod cackles freak glory

but a divine facade;
the flames divide,
revealing:

Thaumaturgy.
 A glossy paradise garden of lush with a
Nightingale singing ninety nine
names of One, and the
one worth saving safe within arms.
 
The little helper into relief sails...
and happy weeping from one slight effort. But,
such small strife deeply replenished.

In return, one of mankind's tingling flavoring
to feasts and drink, a healing essence,
Sincerely yours,
from one sweet Honey Artisan

• Currently 4.75/5 Stars

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