I’ve watched the daily march of the ants
From nest to honey pot
Tasks before them
Trudging onward
Jostling each other for position as they move along well-worn trails
Circadian rhythms feel imperfect when compared to the daily motion of these ants
Their lives bottled up, lived, and consumed in symmetrically rigid steel mounds
Each carving out a space
Each carving out a function
Thirsting for a saccharine sweet reward
But the honey earned tastes bitter in the mouths of the discontent
No comments:
Post a Comment