A society unaware of the Giants breathing down on their world.
The sugar and the wax, a tiny factory cog powers through their daily tasks.
The guards are alert waiting to forfill their roles.
The worker goes on till her back breaks and then is easily replaced.
The queen is showered in love and protected at all costs but I could squash her were she sits, then I see the Royal chamber and realise it’s just another worker , replacements waiting for the chance of the crown.
The sugar and the wax, The system and the slave, It will always stay the same… The season turns again like a recession for the bees, cold and maybe hungry, hoping they worked enough this year.
When temperatures start to rise ,the bees will wake again ,only to battle on gathering and feeding their fat queen once more.
A system that seems to work when you can’t tell a soul, no trade unions for these guys just the prospect of dying old.