“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sunday, February 3, 2019
Formicidae
In moments that require us to stay
put,
against or free will,
tortiously, we may see some relief
in the focus
on a leaf or insects, say
the way
ants seem so purposeful
about their busyness since
distraction eases the
due process-
But then
it doesn't take long for us to
jump in,
and kill it,
this one
Stopped
his trailblazing,
his dead friend lie underfoot,
for a moment
he wondered why,
I could see it-
Anyway, I am moved
by this
and he proceeds to collect
his dead
taking him somewhere
I wonder why
it matters so much,
this weight to bear
the same as when I carried
mine
into their graves,
one realizes in
tense moments
the weight is the same
and ending in a tie
or twist of genes,
neither of us will
come out alive.
Image credited by Lubbock, John [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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