On Beeing Poem by aMan Bloom

Thinking of never-again being,
Never seeing a tree
Or hive of bees in a tree
Being eaten, bee by bee, by a
Bee-eater flying through the tree
Like a jet fighter picking off pigeons
one by one, and the prospect of honey.

Thinking of seeing a living being
In the mirror of my house
Or a horse eating syllables.
A poem that is meant for her eyes only
Winning an award for literacy
Like a meander on a frosty morning
When one’s breath morphs into ice.

Thinking of being a living thought
A beam of light lifted from naught
Streaming under spaces meant for stars
Released from moments of rain
Being beaten beam by beam
Like a waterfall sheeting from a stream
Drop by dropp floating like a bee.