Have you called them off, old friend?
The transmission code from your spirit to the hive mind
Myself a mind to follow —
Of course I have always dreamed
Of flight
Into cold blue light.
But when I remember you
I think that science
Constrains my dreams of heaven
While it unfolds the universe
Like so much I have willed into being
But you who do not believe
In golden light
the honeyed perfume
Of endless days
and such warmth
Have seemingly found
that unsought country
At long last
I am lonely
Without the comfort
Of your rueful voice, the bees’ summer hum
that implied sweetness
improbable as the world.

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