Stepping on Ants

Walking down the sidewalk in a daze, light bends out of my path. People hustle home or wander to find food. From my corners, they’re movements are no faster than if they were underwater. Their laughter and conversations are as distant and unrecognizable as the chirps in the trees. Blankly moving forward on a concrete treadmill, flashes of black sparks rocket pass. Within this vacuum, something catches my subconscious. Looking down just in time to see a black-ant disappear beneath a giant’s foot.

Doctors try to delay it. People struggle to fight an impossible battle. Not the ant. It leaves the colony without hesitation. It doesn’t waste energy stressing about the countless things that make it live, and simply wanders to find food. It maintains its health without obsession. It accepts broken limbs, cracked shells, and failed organs.

Religions try to explain it. People struggle to fight an impossible battle. Not the ant. It leaves the colony without hesitation. It doesn’t waste energy stressing about the countless things that come after, and simply hustles to find home. It maintains its peace without obsession. It accepts unknown journeys, unsolvable mysteries, and countless answers.

Walking down the sidewalk in a daze, light bends out of my path. People hustle home or wander to find food. From my corners, they’re movements are no faster than if they were underwater. Their laughter and conversations are as distant and unrecognizable as the chirps in the trees. Blankly moving forward on a concrete treadmill, flashes of black sparks rocket pass. Within this vacuum, something catches my subconscious. Looking down just in time to see a black-ant reemerge from beneath a giant’s foot.