Ants In The Dirt
before time began,
they slaved, just the same,
to build castles with the mortar
in dull, dutiful eyes.
the same busy, chitinous flame--
it 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 voids.
and yet the ants, just as now,
adapted without question.
you can see it, even today,
in the nature of their feasts,
as they branch through the blood
of extinct histories.
such stupid power--
there is no dust without it,
and no ants without dust.
they mock the corpses we have been
and will
be.
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