Fable of the Honey Bees

From out the tiny wood and mesh cage, sticky with cane sugar and honey, they all fly, buzzing Up! Up! Up!into the air in hovering spirals. We jump back thinking that these suddenly unleashed bees would dash about the room, stingers prone for suicidal attack.

We were certain that they would be angry for being [boxed up in that box without light] for so long, not knowing what was happening, travelling by post to some unknown destination.

The beekeeper remains calm. No panic. He does not even seem concerned that his precious cargo might escape out of the chaos and uncertainty of that Pandora’s box into thin air and out the door or through some crack in the wall.

Yet unbelievably, all the honey bees fly directly onto the invisible window pane; there they dance in circles toward the light as the sun rays filter softly through the green pines and brush beneath the glow of the Monte Bianco mountain top in mid-afternoon.

“Always toward the sun,” he smirks to himself, as if guarding a hidden secret. “Always toward the sun,” he repeats without reason.

It is there—through the invisible barrier that they attempt to make their escape—they who would only think of escape after they had danced their dance for their Queen after providing sustenance for her on the long voyage to an unknown destination—they who danced for her because she provides for all life, for it is she whose royal jelly provides sustenance for all…