Does the bee whisper serenades of love
to the flower that it so willingly yield
to gather from its honeyed womb
the sweetened nectar of life.
Or is it the flower who sings to the bee,
of pleasures promised,
that it cannot but yield,
to the alluring enchantress’ beckon.
Whatever it be, it is a celebration to see,
each rejoicing in the other’s company;
for one cannot be without the other,
woven together in an inseparable bond.
For the flower is to the bee,
a fountain of life from where it drinks;
and the bee is to the flower,
a bearer of life itself.
Enchanting is the nature’s way,
which weaves one life to another.
– Mo Irom