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I Heard the Bells

de Sleeping At Last

Death is promised to the bee who's sting protects the colony.
Was it's life worth nothing more than honey for the queen?
Life is a branch and it is a dove, handcrafted by confusing love.
Sign language is our reply, when church beels make no sound.
In hollow towers and empty hives, we craved sweetness with a fear of heights.
Was it all just a grain of sand in and hourglass?

The smartest thing i've ever learned is that i don't have all the answers,
Just a little light to call my own.
Though it pales in comparison to the overarching shadows,
A speck of light can reignite the sun and swallow darkness whole.

Death is a cold, blindfolded kiss.
It is the finger pressed upon our lips.
It puts an unwanted emphasis on how we should have lived.
Life is a gorgeous, broken gift.
Six billion+ pieces waiting to be fixed.
Love letters that were never signed, sent to where we live.

But the sweetest thing i've ever heard is that i don't have to have the answers,
Just a little light to call my own.
Though it pales in comparison to the overarching shadows,
A speck of light can reignite the sun and swallow darkness whole.

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