Before knowing
There is not knowing.
We bumble along
In our ignorance
Like a bee bypassing a flower
And we care not–
Because we know not.

Then suddenly we know.
Ignorance is torn,
Like a worn garment
discarded.

We bumble on
With the new known.

But for some few of us,
There is the new not known.
That which was known
Is known no more.
We no longer know the flower.
The scent is foreign.
Genus and Species slide back
Into unknowing.
This nectar is not known,
And then nectar is not known.