I apologize if I am anachronistic or be-
-hind the times. I promise I don't mean to be.
This is the tumultuous hive of the bumblebee.
These sounds and colours are my muse; they're
Ever-present and never lacking in their
Brilliance. I at once am not and simultaneously at once am here and there.
It isn't just an éclat of unmoving colours I see,
But rather a swirling, turbulent sea
Of something like alphabet soup, since each wave forms a rolling "C."
Under the surface of the waters, everything is a manta ray
Whose slick skin is alight with the sun's ray.
A singsong voice in my head sings do and re
With an eventual, sonorous mi,
Which expresses its perception of the world to me.
I adore but never mimic the sun and moon and moon and stars in their beautiful bigamy.