A Journey Of Honing Words And Wasps... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i hone myself, and i honing i am honed,
like a drone like one drowning drone who wants to master the art of
drinking water, he must have to drown himself first
or even die,

but that will not be the end of it,
dying does not end,

it gives you a start, an upstart of what lies ahead
perhaps
a new beginning, but let us pretend that we do not die

we just hone and keep honing until the honing is perfected
until we become nothing but honers of this craft of living life
like
crazy drones that drown themselves in the water to drink the
whole ocean of thirst and hunger

do not think that i want you to feel what death is and make you
understand about it,
i am just talking and keep on talking to myself because

i want to hone myself into dying, because dying does not actually die itself but simply keeps on dying
until it gets perfected.

and how is it to be perfect? continue talking, i am tired and
i am still as broken as you are.

do you see wasps in the air?