A Beekeeper Thinking about the Fall
(This is a guest post from ~lagrev-nocfep)
“A world of choice is a world of consequences. A world of consequences is a world where you can’t simply walk back what you just did and revert to the prior state. Of course an angel and a flaming sword bars the way. Of course the way is shut. The angel is called time. The sword is called agency.”
On capturing a wild swarm
Not the apotheosis of red sprung
From breast fast in cat’s jaw, the beekeeper’s
Elsewise pensive, wishing the bell unrung—
The hurt of husbandry falls on sleepers
Awaken! Now ronin against their wills
At last to die under stars—the sting
Is medicine or poison, but any dose still kills
By vigorous rattle of the chain of being.
In time’s amber light cannot help but cast
Shadow into the crucible of its absence.
The arrow’s head can be only forwards passed.
The world takes its meaning from its consequence.
Our poor eyes see marring, not the tale told.
But fire turns straw to a more perfect gold
The specific event was that I had to gather a wild swarm and for days afterwards confused and lost workers came back to the place the swarm had been looking for their home.
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