Purpose
I watch the busy ants and wonder why we’re here.
What’s the reason for it all?
Is it to mate and procreate
then keep the little buggers alive?
Or raise our arms and howl
to waken ancestors… and neighbours
and join a primal cacophony?
Can we heal our world
when it’s been driven like a hire car in a desert?
Should we even try?
Can I hold a hand for everyone who suffers?
Or will that bleed me dry?
Tiny hopes,
fleeting joys,
and smelling the orange blossom where bees sing.
Ants follow ants
and know exactly what to do.
