The mind's bumblebee, it flies off unto where?
On account of Whom, to that far mount it goes flying.
Any floral nectar only can
Give a gladness transitory.
Pulled toward forest is the psyche,
Frequently in hope of honey.
Bee tells, it wants lasting gladness;
And so unto the sky-blue it speeds.
Permanent nectar dwells just at
Environs of that Supreme Entity.
The world entire, having been a single mind,
Therefore dances, Himself encircling.
Fathoming this fact and seeking Him only,
Flies the bumblebee, spreading wings.
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In the end, only what does not pass will satisfy.
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