Korifaeus Magazine

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The Empire of the Bees – Maya: The Beginning

Maya
By Korifaeus

Maya

Once upon a time and long ago there were a people of a tribe who were incredibly fascinated observing the life of honey bees. Aside from the delicious syrup, honey, they created, they appeared to be master builders, as well, which was discovered after closely looking at a honey comb.

How meticulously and with such precision these little flying insects were forming hexagonal shaped cells out of wax, placing them in a pattern above one another so to form yet again hexagonal shapes. The entire structure made of a building material they manufactured themselves, as well. Wax.

Instantly the studious people observing the bees went to retrieve some clay, molding it into bricks, then laying it in similar fashion above one another, as the bees did building their honey comb.

” They’re teachers”, said the elder of the tribe, ” we shall let the bees teach us the way”, he said after having dreamed of a bee speaking to him in a dream.
And this is the Dream of the elder, as told from generation to generation, so to keep the dream alive.

” When i sting you, i will die,
but allow me, don’t deny,
for the stinger will inject my soul into your flesh,
let your body be my creche ”

It was as though the elder awoke upon hearing a voice sounding as if it came from within hallowed chambers, resonating inside echoing walls; but he did not wake up – he fell asleep; dreaming he’d been awakened by a voice, while having napped leaning against a Philodendron; his body cradled in its gigantic hand-like leaves.

Opening his eyes he saw a tiny bee by whose voice he’d been awakened. The gigantic hands of the Philodendron suddenly released him, when he realized his body had shrunk to the size of the bee.

” Come”, suggested the bee invitingly, now standing before the elder on the root of the tree. “Sit on my back and i’ll show you the Kingdom”.

Without hesitation, as though in a state of trance, the elder, now the size of the bee, climbed on top the back of the bee and was surprised to feel how fine and velvety soft her fur was.

” Hold on to my mane so you won’t fall during flight”, suggested the bee.

From where the elder sat it looked as though he was sitting on the back of a lion, with an enormous lion colored mane of hair in front of him, which he held on to. The bee took flight with the elder feeling the wind brush by his face, while the earth below him became smaller and smaller until it was but a tiny dot in midst a dark blue sky, with bright little lights blinking and flickering around him.

Before them was an enormously tall white Dome from which came a sound unlike any sound he’d ever heard. A sound described by the descendants of the elder as, Heavenly.

When finally arriving at the Dome, he jumped off the bee’s back, holding his breath while gazing at the awe-inspiring sight before him from inside which came heavenly sounds.

Following the bee inside the Dome, as the bee suggested, he was astonished to find himself inside a most elaborate structure, with a perfectly round wall made of hexagonal shapes from floor to ceiling, in which lay eggs, nurturingly tended to by thousands of bees who were …….

….” Singing”, whispered the bee, as though she’d read the elder’s mind. “The nuns are singing, which is the sound you’ve been hearing from afar coming from the Dome”, she explained whisperingly, then smiled.

“These are my children, but i can’t tend to them by myself thus their siblings tend to their needs”, she explained.

“All of these eggs are your children ? “, asked the elder in disbelieve.

” Not only the eggs. The nuns tending to the eggs, the maurers building and maintaining the Dome, the waxmen building the comb, the ammen taking the new eggs to place them into the comb, the collectors collecting the pollen, the spitters manufacturing honey, the guards standing guards outside the Dome, the Drones flying out into the world to court Queens of other Kingdoms in the Empire, the pipers, the army, all are my children.”

Looking around the Dome seeing the thousands upon thousands if not millions of bees, all of whom where the children of the Bee, the elder found himself in wonderment, then,
“But who or where are your parents and what is your name ?”, he asked.

“My name ? I don’t have a name. But you may give me a name, if you wish”, she suggested encouragingly, then smiled.

“Maya”, the elder said. You are a Maya, that is what we call your kind.”, he explained. for in the elders tongue the word for bee is Maya.

“What about your parents, say ? who are your parents ?”, inquired the elder once again curious as to where she’d come from.

“I don’t have any parents”, she whispered, so not to interfere with the singing of the nuns tending to the eggs. ” I give birth to myself when the time has come and the time has arrived. I laid my last three eggs. Each of them is identical to the other, but only one of the three eggs will mature into a fertile Bee in which i will live on.”

“You are going to die ?” asked the elder, suddenly overcome by sadness.

” No, i can’t die for as long as i’ve laid at least one clone-egg in which i will live on and an egg i’ve laid. I will go on as a bee, a mother of this Empire from which sprung 13 Kingdoms out of which came uncountable tribes having swarmed out to all directions, pollinating the fields of the earth.

When i sting you, i will die,
but allow me, don’t deny,
for the stinger will inject my soul into your flesh,
let your body be my creche ”

Kali

Upon the Bee once more having sung the very same four verses, this time accompanied by the singing nuns tending to the eggs, adding the harmonies to the melody, with the sounds resonating inside the Dome, the elder found himself falling asleep, while cradled by the gigantic hand-like leaves of the Philodendron.

Then he woke up from his dream, when suddenly…. “OUTCH”
A bee had stung his left index finger, leaving the stinger inside the skin. He looked at the floor and saw the bee. Quietly, he heard himself sing while a tear dislodged from his eye…

” When i sting you, i will die,
but allow me, don’t deny,
for the stinger will inject my soul into your flesh,
let your body be my creche ”

Einstein

* Note: Photo 2 = Kali. The word Kali means “Judge” ( Plural “Kalimi”= Jurors – Old Persian, from Old Arabic, Kadi, meaning Judge )

.

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