Anthill
On a school field trip to Cypress Hills I veered off from the group and did my own thing for a bit.
There was an anthill.
The activity around it, and one would assume, within, seemed quite in order.
So I kicked it.
Immediately, a frantic re-organization was apace. Much more carefully orchestrated than the activity of my own dawdling elementary-school friends, traipsing off to gather polliwogs or whatever was next on the agenda, the leader mumbling instructions --
Here at boot-level was a three-alarm disaster.
Very… localized.
Without even believing in anything, I felt like Satan, and bent low.
To examine my creation.
What could I even do about it? Jesus Christ.
There's going to be some needed re-building here.
A lot of decades have passed from then until now. Half an earthly lifetime.
But I cannot help but wonder… what if the believers are right?
What if everything started out pretty good, until some idiot came by, and all hell broke loose.
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --
1 comment:
I like it, because you connect the past with the present; you connect your action as an individual with all actions arising from the society; you connect good with evil; you simply connect and still pose questions ?!!
I like it because Poetry should be a series of explanations for life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations. I LIKE IT!
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