Ants In The Dirt
before time began,
they slaved, just the same,
to build castles with a mortar
of dull, dutiful eyes.
the same busy, chitinous flame
which burned away giants.
the same foaming petty toil
that guzzled the hubris of the Gods
and left none.
the Flood came and went,
and huge fists of Stone from the void.
and yet the ants, just as now,
adapted without question.
even today,
in the nature of their feasts,
they branch through the blood
of extinct histories,
plying their stupid, invincible power.
there is no dust without ants,
and no ants without dust.
they tred on the corpses we have been
and will
be.
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