| The Flower |
| The bee drinks of the flower Sinks into fragrant power A dipping, flagrant knower Sipping waste tastes sour It dives into the bloom Vies for rarest room Deprives the waiting womb Drives forth with aplomb Blossom well drained Gossamer leaves veined Chasm seethes, drained Spasm breeds pain Paranoid petals pout Devoid of nectar, out, Void, a spectre of doubt Buoyed by a sceptre of clout To wait for a time A state more divine When stamen will shine Fate woven sublime |