Even the hardest rock succumbs to time,
its unrelenting elements. Now spume
casts white blankets atop their home, a chime
unheard announces their collective doom.
No bee is an island. A paradigm
as much for them as man. And as their tomb
envelopes them a hundred bees will hum.
Ask not for whom the bees hum; it is them.
For this is their communal kingdom come
and as the sea becomes them, say Amen.