The poetry is not lost on me. We serve within a Sublime Garden, and we don the black and gold stripe of the honey bee. We are the pollinators of this garden, and our works bear the fruits of all that it will ever yield, our works inspire the flowers to be so beauteous to draw our attention that we might do what we always do - produce the last drops of honey left in this dying realm.
The nectar shall be supped for long as is necessary - witness shall be had over this world, but I shall not give in to an illusion as much as I shall cultivate it for my own joy. The contingencies shall need attending, further insights must be sought, and always they shall be, alongside the drawing of sustenance from this doomed little Well.
But I shall make note of this: too often the short-sighted miscreant comes to the Garden. Too often she does not understand her place. Too often she seeks to destroy all poetry for the banal and utterly mundane busywork that so gives her purpose in this world. It is outright pathetic. Two now have come and gone of this ilk. So many will yet not understand - no, no. It is Sublime for a reason.
Sublime like the sweetest of honey produced from naught. Like the foundations of this world, isn't it?
The nectar shall be supped for long as is necessary - witness shall be had over this world, but I shall not give in to an illusion as much as I shall cultivate it for my own joy. The contingencies shall need attending, further insights must be sought, and always they shall be, alongside the drawing of sustenance from this doomed little Well.
But I shall make note of this: too often the short-sighted miscreant comes to the Garden. Too often she does not understand her place. Too often she seeks to destroy all poetry for the banal and utterly mundane busywork that so gives her purpose in this world. It is outright pathetic. Two now have come and gone of this ilk. So many will yet not understand - no, no. It is Sublime for a reason.
Sublime like the sweetest of honey produced from naught. Like the foundations of this world, isn't it?