"From above, we all look like ants."

Oh ant, chief ant, you're crawling low
beneath a bush, hid from Lord Sun;
His heat; His light; and heaven's glow;
Your oldier ants, their fighting done,
are damned from now to the end of days
for following orders and your word;
And Lord Sun beats with His hot rays
upon their heads; oh ant, unstirred,
if you truly care about their lives,
give new orders: turn, and rout,
return, soldier ants, to your hives;
It's not cowardice, the truth will out:
the bush is burning bright enough
to hide Lord Sun's eternal light
for now; But soon, in just a puff,
the bush will die, and what's right
will come to be once more for all;
Chief ant, you stay beneath the bush
but you'll never hear another call,
you'll pass on, and Lord Sun will push
once more across a deep blue sky
and shine His light upon the ground,
but it's up to us if we shall die,
if we fade away without a sound.

© 2006 Eline

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