I will make of these weary bones, 

creaking and fragile to the touch,

sweet melodies from beyond Valhalla.

Music of life shall i make from the embers of Death;

conjuring sweet poetry from these ashes

to sate you.

From these cinders,

will your soul will get its fill.


within these embers,

 ambrosia shall burst forth.




Many questioned her sweetness

The sweetness she 

bore on her face and about her being

They forget that the bee that produces Mother earths sweet nectar

heavens own ambrosia

Had a lasting Sting. 

They forget

So she reminds them” 

(A.k 15)

Honey Bee