the sun shines.
the wind blows.
the flowers bloom,
and brown,
as they wither
and die.

insects crawl about
munching
digesting
excreting
and taking shape anew

their hair-like legs
cannot scuttle quickly enough across pebbles
to return home,
or to avoid ill-intented jays.

an insect crawls,
reproduces,
consumes,
and capsises.
his offspring, even before they hatch,
are indifferently barbequed by
the lightning of an apparently
apathetic ruler.

spiritual fratricide is commonplace.

i, as you, am an insect.
i, as you, live my life in an
undefined jar.
i, as you, shall return to the great mother
in a day of absolute peace.
i, as you, am part of the dirt, the soil,
which nourishes us all,

and likewise, we shall each
rise and fall
from one bed to another.

09/14/2005

Author's Note: wrote this when I was in high school

Posted on 09/15/2005
Copyright © 2024 Kourosh Taheri-Golvarzi