Geometric Allegory

August 12, 2013

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Back then, I sat in the backyard and watched the bees buzz from flower to flower,

I knew them as angels.

Those little specks of yellow-fuzz-and-stingers

Carried with them all the magic pixie-dust needed to keep the world alive.

These bees were, in my mind, the great alchemists mixing different pollens to create new fruits.

Occasionally, some of those fuzzy angels

Stumbled, faltering at my feet.

I watched those dying bees.

I saw them labor and breathe and flicker and fade.

Would they send an invisible message back to their hive?

Would the hive even notice their absence?

Moreover, what was my role in any of this?

Should I sit back impassive and watch the scene unfold, all while doing nothing?

And what of the bees?

Did they have a right to their own death?

Did they own the suffering, the lameness, the asphyxiation?

Or since they fell prostrate at my feet

Should I give them the ultimate mercy by stepping on them quickly?

Can you see?

I step on bees.

I am the alchemical bumblebee

Carrying with me a collection of cosmic space dust that clings to my knees,

And I am on an errand for my Father to bring Him

Pollen so that he might have fruits.

I was never born special or mighty and I have no claim to such things.

We know not what we are,

But the design shapes us into what we will become.

It is faith that allows such things.

December 30th, 2023: Recently, the news reported on the possibility that comets brought the Earth life by slamming into our atmosphere and bringing with them star dust that peopled this place. Not unlike an army of most superfluous sperm spreading out to the ovum, the comets mostly die on their journey, but one is bound to make it to its destination. So too is the pattern of astronomy.

We cannot be what we are not, just as the acorn cannot help to grow into an oak.