Words from Pep

Dreamtime

This is the story of a dream. . . Today, sitting on my porch out of the wind and with the sun warming my face, I began to doze off. As is common in fall, bees were seeking a hiding place for the upcoming cold season. Numerous models of these insect aircraft were hovering nearby, legs, like landing gear, dangling below, engine rpms at minimum. . . . . . As the curtains lowered over my eyes I fell into the dreamtime. There, in a parallel universe, robed in yellow and brown, a Cessna sized bee stood with flaps down, engine off. A phased array of lenses peered at me gathering information without a blink. Drawn toward this craft I used one of its legs as a boarding step and perched myself atop the forward abdominal cabin. Jointed antennae snapped back and I gripped the last segments. Liftoff! Maximum acceleration! Instantly airborne we banked to the right and headed through the trees. In no time we reached elevation with rising vapors. At eleven o’clock sailed a lone swallow and ahead a family of grackles thrashed about in the turbulence of our wake as we flashed by. Fields, marshes, orchards passed below and suddenly a dizzying sharp decent brought us to a colony of white boxes. Panic was rampant in this sweet-city as it seemed few workers had returned from a recent foray. A regal looking drone, colleague of my ride, approached and with twitching antennae, buzzed, dipped and nodded instructions for a mission. We turned, ambled to the edge of the hive and were off. Stop after stop we discovered remains laced with the toxic pollen of insecticides, GMOs, fungicides. At each one my pilot lightly massaged the dead with the hairs of its own body picking up clues to report back to base. At each one my pilot seemed less coherent, less empowered for flight. Finally, our flight plan fulfilled, we again approached the colony but this time gliding in on what little strength remained. The runway was clear. No permission-to-land was forthcoming from the silent tower. Our touchdown was rough and upon taxiing to a stop my friend collapsed among the bodies of the hive. . . . . . I startled from sleep to discover a wasp and bee having conversation on the back of my hand. They turned and looked in my direction. “You need us”, they seemed to say. “Consider your ways”. . . . . . . . . (Albert Einstein stated, “If honey bees become extinct, human society will follow in four years.” Since 1965 bee populations have dropped 85%. The relationship between humans and bees is collapsing and the bees are not at fault. 70% of our food depends on bee pollination.)
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ONE WORLD  -  ONE FAMILY OF MAN  -  ONE CREATOR OF ALL