The Bumblebee arrived a-hummin',
At a flower-grove, tell the reason–
And is it in a floral or mental garden?
Smile of moon, delight of blooms–
Both effuse in company with only Him.
Today, drunken are the air and sky;
In many hues they rose attired.
Searching for strings of Whose lyre,
Desolate, a melody they did give.
The Bumblebee, why, having come asudden,
Upon a psychic flower He now sits?
He keeps staying until everybody's finish;
Who knows why oh why that is!
Sarkarverse article
Audio recording
Wednesday, March 1, 2023
Joy's embodiment
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