Ten cranes danced above
The skyline in resplendent colors
Basic blue,
Tiger orange
Fire engine red
Cream White
Black night
Lemon Yellow
The ants that moved about
and below them
Wondered if they should remain
To complete the task
Or leave empty skeletons
Littered about the city
While life went on
In forms not of their
Choosing…
They could no longer see
A future with their eyes
Sewn shut as the were…
And devils whispered into
Their ears
The fears of so many.
How could they see
A promising future
With such dark figures
Sulking about
Planting the seeds
Of control in such fertile
Soil made by the ants,
Such good automatons,
They march to their death
By rote
But the real joke is
That God is a kid with
An ant farm.
