Words: Jason Boyns
Photograph: Fiona Christensen
There once lived bees from hollow hill,
that reigned supreme up until
the cold summer darkness came
with freezing showers of dark blood rain.
The hollow in the hill was astir,
for bees could sense the dark dooms lure,
the red blood rose and leapt,
gushing torrents as the dark sky swept.
The bees took up arms and swords
and flew heavenward in tight-knit cords
for what else was there but for war,
but in the heavens is doom they saw.
Amongst the stars the gods did bleed,
their blood the warning for others to heed.
But the bees flew on, those brave little beasts,
hoping to taste a victory feast,
but when at last their foe appeared,
the bees shrieked for all they feared.
A darkness came, cold and dread,
And just like that, the bees were dead.
They dissolved into nothingness, a dark abyss
Never more to taste the honey’s sweet kiss.
The skies went cold, white and then still,
Over the remains of hollow hill.