Radiohead. Coffee. Caffeine gradually making synapses and neurons glitter and flash like the shiny furious rustling of honey-bee wings in the hive after sunlight makes them stir from their cold torpor.

There’s someplace I should really be right now. But I’m not.

In truth, there’s not enough light today to soften up the honeycomb -- the maze of hexagons vexing and labyrinthine, unyielding as frostbitten stop signs.

Today I’ve been thinking that perhaps my undeveloped super power is something along the lines of bee vision. That I can look at someone and read the ultraviolet phosphorescence of their honey guides -- the where and how of their hidden or withheld or unplundered sweetness -- even when no one else can or cares to. When the sweetness has been plundered too roughly or too many times so that there isn’t any left, or when there’s something wrong and there was never any sweetness to begin with.

This knowledge is, of course, only one small facet of a larger maze of complexities. It is an incomplete, and therefore extremely dangerous, knowledge.

These secrets trouble me.

But in case you were wondering if I notice/d you, or if I can see through you, the answer is quite possibly Yes.

Yes, I see you.

I'll have whatever brand of coffee it is you're drinking this morning, Artichoke Heart. ;)

Beautiful, Lee. I love the term "honey guides"--wasn't familiar with it.

And especially nice that you know this: This knowledge is, of course, only one small facet of a larger maze of complexities. It is an incomplete, and therefore extremely dangerous, knowledge. I admire that you do, that you didn't leave off at "to begin with"...

I do notice, miss, and even long for you. Have I done something to offend?

Lenka: Hee!

Thank you, Emily. And yes, isn't the term "honey guides" wonderful? I discovered it a few years back and am still completely mesmerized by it.

And thank you, T. Yes!

Anonymous: Your anonymity precludes my being able to ascertain whether or not I find you offensive.

This makes me feel so safe, somehow. I'm glad have noticed and can see through me. You'll note that I'm often invisible though I still exude a powerful odor. It's my super power. Stinky invisibility. I think it comes from an almost pathalogical shyness and a love of cheese.

Rebecca, your invisible cheese-loving elusivity is, of course, what I adore most about you. That, and the fact that you can speak the secret music language. And that you love the Bee the way you do.

Dangerous knowledge indeed yet entirely intriguing. I'm glad this is not my undeveloped super power as I feel I often know too much about people as it is. My super power needs to be being able to let go of some of what I do know already. . .

I am not anonymous.

I see you too.

Do you really see through me?

M. Luminous

M. Luminous: Yes, I do. And you are dazzling!

I accidentally stumbled upon your page with this beautiful collaboration of words that captured not just my attention but my emotion as well. wow. thank you.