A small speck of sand
winning over a little anthill.
No one bothered what the ant had to say
in the whole deal.

When in an insignificant fraction
of the passing time –
a very small touch of ambiguous love
did awaken a beast.

Who told us that we have to fear?
‘the who’ does not matter anymore
‘the why’ matters because that is what
will open the gates.

And yes for the ant and the sand
there is no fear, no love, no time
just insignificant fractions of ‘what’ and ‘who’
for which they are anyway too big to notice.

Categories: Poetry

Tags: ant, Anthill, Poetry