Hives, Part One Bees. Want a hive that’s home. An abode Of saints and sinners. Bees. Buzzing black and yellow. Workers of Honey magic who know, The hives of wood Are home. Should I talk to the bees? What would they say? When I don’t bring tidings of the dead. Bees. Soul friends of Dewi Sant And Dewi Aedan Sant. Find me a home Find me a hive Find me a place To buzz and thrive. What hive is home? What hive is home? Bees. Answer, your hive Is the wondering road. Like the peregrini of hold. No hive is home. Every hive is home. Maybe home Should be where you left it. Maybe home is a place you can’t stay. And… Bees without bees; no bees at all.
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