The flower does not dream of the bee. That’s how the saying goes, isn’t it? The flower grows and blossoms and never once dreams of a bee to come and pay it any attention. Oh how simple life would be as a flower; a budding rose in the whispers of Spring when the air is warm and the breeze soothes and the buzzing of a bee signals the arrival of something fresh. I always loved the idea of becoming a flower. I would start as a seed, perhaps dropped from the wing of a bird, and I would grow and sprout into something fragrant and lovely; something children would pick for their mothers for a special day. I longed for that. I longed for desire. And what is more desired than a rose? By children, by mothers, by bees. Ah to be a bee. A buzzing little bee bursting with brash abandonment. I always found that bees were misunderstood. One does not intentionally sting; the same goes for the bee. We do not seek someone to stick, we merely buzz through life and as we bump and grind into those surrounding us we find our stingers raised and poking anyone or anything that we perceive to do us wrong.
But I’ve gone off topic.
The flower and the bee; that’s why we’re here. So we know the flower never dreams of the bee, but the bee must dream of the flower. The flower directly impacts the life of the bee, and not only of that one bee, but of all the other bees. For if the flowers didn’t exist, neither would the bees; and if the bees didn’t exist, neither would the flowers. How delicate. Yet, we know the flower can not possibly dream of a bee. Do we know for sure that a bee can not dream of a flower? Do we know that a bee is born and thinks nothing of what to do next? Or does a bee come into this world and immediately start its search for the perfect flower?
Impossible, of course.
However the two are made to go hand in hand; without ever knowing, without ever wondering, without ever questioning. The two are drawn together by a force bigger than themselves; evolution, nature, fate.
Fate.
That’s the one.
And you see, it wouldn’t matter how long it took the bee to get to the flower, because the two were always made for each other.
And I believe the same is true of us.
You are a bee, buzzing brilliantly in the Spring air.
I am a radiant rose, yearning to be touched.
And we are meant to be, as fate would have it, just as the flowers and the bees.
-KA
Sweaters, Scarves & Stories 🍂 