Anyone else like watching bees? What’s it like to be a bee?

Boo bees obviously


I was watching How It’s Made last night and an episode about how honey is made came up. I watched it and it got me thinking…what it would be like to be a bee. Never wondering, never thinking, just having this absolute purpose. Having a place, a job that drives you to what you are at your core.

No second guesses. You are a bee, you find flowers. You make honey. You buzz.


This is the part you skip over because you know what’s coming, but anyway.

So I tried to go to sleep but couldn’t stop thinking about the bees.



And so I couldn’t sleep and couldn’t stop thinking about it and so I got up and decided to just stop fighting and start writing about it and came up with this.

A Bee Sees
A Bee Sees

A bee never wakes up on the wrong side of bed,
A bee never gets filled with existential dread,
No, a bee never feels that his life’s on the skids,
And a bee never wonders what he coulda did,
A bee never struggles with issues like money,
A bee just finds flowers, a bee just makes honey,

A bee never worries if he can find work,
A bee never deals with a boss that’s a jerk,
A bee never despairs when the world’s got him beat,
A bee just takes pollen, and makes something sweet,
A bee doesn’t feel trapped, never yearns to be free,
A bee knows what it is, cause a bee’s just a bee,

A bee never lies sleepless with questions at night,
A bee never wonders what’s wrong and what’s right,
A bee knows its purpose, its place in the hive,
A bee never asks why it’s even alive,
A bee doesn’t stare out into the abyss,
And wrestle with all of the chances he missed,

For you see,
It’s because,
He’s a bee,
And that’s all he needs to be.

A bee never wonders just what to believe,
A bee doesn’t know how to love or to grieve,
A bee doesn’t cope with how nothing makes sense,
A bee knows that death comes with his only defense,
A bee doesn’t know ecstasy, knows no despair,
A bee only knows, he’s a bee, and he’s there,

A bee never wonders just how he can fly,
A bee only knows how to live and to die,
Is a bee just a slave, or is it truly free?
‘Cause it is what its nature demands it to be,
Does a bee even think? Does a bee give a damn?
If a bee could trade places would he be a man?

To bee,
Or not to bee?
Perhaps some bardic bee’s opined,
Whilst sipping on some honeyed wine,
It’s absurd, but I’ve heard,
That sometimes even bees can get drunk,

Who’d’ve thunk?

If a bee could be man,
Would that life the bee trade,
Would a man be a bee,
If the bargain were made?
Strange queries alas, Strange indeed,
If a bee were man would he make mead?

Would a bee just be lost in the endless rat race?
And pine for a time where he just knew his place?
Could a man even stomach the endless routine?
Would a man understand what to be a bee means?

Would a man-bee be lost in the hum of the hive?
Would a bee-man alone, know just how to survive?
Does the world that we know dictate what we’re to be?
If they were to switch spots, are they slave? Are they free?

But a bee’s just a bee,
And a man’s just a man,
And perhaps we’re all part of some grandiose plan,
Or perhaps it’s all random, and chaos doth reign,
As the hour grows late,
Still the question remains,

But the flowers will grow
And the bee will make honey,
The man knows what he needs,
And he needs to make money,

So he’ll take the bee’s labor,
And let it ferment,
Perhaps each has their purpose,
How their time is spent,

Raise a glass to the bee,
It‘s a fine world indeed,
For the bee makes the honey,
And the man makes the mead.


Is the unending, carved in stone purpose better? Or the endless wondering?

Anyway, I’ll let you bee.