Absconding

I infer that my heart must learn
to live like a fragment from eternity,

because eternity doesn't ever offer
itself up to mortal understanding.

My friend said I must come
to terms with the idea of

reconciliation— that it will either happen
when it's time, or it will never happen.

What could it say when the bees 
rush out of the hive, having decided

not to establish their colony? In the apiary, 
ants and mites thicken the empty combs.

Fainter by the day, the odor of beeswax 
on gold curtains frayed at the seams.