On a Dying Bee Still at Work

Carrying forward as he dies,

Gathering his nectar,

His diligence is undeterred

By death’s looming specter.

The busy bee relentlessly

Laboring at his chore,

Never resting until he falls

And can labor no more.

I felt a bitterness creeping

Upon me as I gazed;

Am I a drone that I too strive

Until, battered and dazed,

I crumble down upon my knees

So weary I can’t crawl?

Or can I learn to realize

I cannot do it all?

There are so many who will help

In carrying the load;

I have to learn to take their hand

While travelling this road.

For even He, his labors done,

Took time to rest one day.

So I will leave my bloom to them

And go take time to play.

Exodus 33:14
The LORD replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”