Buddha Bees and Beauty
His stoic, weathered façade
Subdues an ancestral angst
Silences the unwept tears
Of duty’s diligent dissent
Soft lights mock his withered soul
Highlight the emptiness of now
Echoing forever’s endless “OOOOM’
As darkness swallows all
The thorn means no harm
For it is but a Rose’s champion
Sworn to solemn solitude
In service to his queen
The flowers open wide
Their scented sensuality
Pandering to the buzz
Of pollinations gigolos
A forlorn star
Sits on a passing cloud
The knowing do not know the unknown
If they did
They would know
What they don’t know
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