The Honeycomb

The sting of the salt

In your open wounds

Has but one salve,

To become the finest honey there is;

A dark amber honey,

Laced with strong love,

Spiced with fiery passion,

Fragrant with wild freedom,

Spilling sweet surrender.

Beloved to heal,

Become a little bumblebee,

And extract with ceaseless effort

The elixir that lies waiting

In the honeycomb

Of your own heart.