Meaning

A symphony of many trumpets, flutes and strings

Ringing melodies sweet in perfect harmony

With hundred and more voices, high and low

An elegantly struck delicate balance

Unsettling chaos touched with pristine order

A spider's web weaved messily seemingly flawless

A worm's trail in all but dirt

Gives a nourishing touch to this good earth

Feeding lines to come, a lotus blooms

Raising above the mud where its roots stand

Do the bidding as Bees do, a harvest at hand

Before you know, or in some remote time

Nonetheless Bees labour at the queen's command

Rain falls, the wind blows mere roles of play

Complex conandrams- plainly known

A quest for another 'Job' to confront almighty

To ask why, to know just that

Would you dare to mock thyself?