Poem
[Source – Pixabay]
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Death, destruction, war and earthquake,
Out of these
The path to earthquake site we take.
We are on the move, us ants,
Closer to the ground, we can,
And we will sense tremors and flee,
For it is natural, O giant ban,
“You mean man”, oh, yes, sorry;
We will help the broken, the crushed,
We will liberate the dead.
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Look that’s my uncle, aunty and foster paa-paa
Walking in a line, and my sister is at the top-aa (of)
The horizontal pyramid,
Our grit strategy, forward march, pebbles, and pray,
March, pebbles, pray, for all who died.
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Ants’ reverence pheromone, invisible, strong
Makes a trail that we then track, and tread along
It, until we reach our… “food?”,
No, you want to be on that trail mat?
“Man”, eh, if yes, silly fool,
You must change the track, straighten your hat,
Tap your shoes, turn, leave, then take a right.
Us ants are on the path to the earthquake site,
“But why – last question!”
For it is natural – earthquakes come and go,
Wars don’t, it’s a destination
For some; unfair bullets hide and kill and lo,
No cliques ever enter the battlefield,
Or maybe they do;
A handshake to shield
And seal, a business deal.
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Look, us ants are moving in speed,
The earth is muddy there, but we’ll lead,
“You’re doing a good deed.”
Good? It is only natural.
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If they answer not to thy call, walk alone…
[Source – Pixabay]
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