stand there in winter white with feet planted firmly in the center of the red ant hill and by means of internal clock, compass and common intuition, gage the pain of a million bites in relation to falling from a burning skycraper or being hacked to pieces with a machete and suddenly the illusionary importance of our petty concerns vanishes as quickly as the ants strip the flesh of a small animal, leaving shining true white tinted bones to gleam in midnight anguish.
5 Comments:
gets us primates into proportion does nature. we aren't quite a big or important as we think we are.
must be my fifth visit back here. the more i read this the better it is. pictureprosepoetry. surely this site is the epitome of how a creative web log should be? forget all the clever poetry and story weaving that i and others do, here is the the original intent taken to its zenith of creativity.
brilliant.
i'm here again.
in short pants with a sticky toffee apple in one hand and jawsharp in the other. my pockets are full of old bits of tat.
i'm here again.
looking up at the broken window where the wind blows sharp but the cobwebs hang heavy. waiting.
waiting for a sign of life.
waiting at this strange place that is nothing like where i live but feels right all the same.
i'm here again.
beautiful!
The Hideousness of Natural Selection, takes savage forms when Humans are Involved, Nowhere but in Nature do the asthetics blare so majesticly...and a fine observation at that Dear...
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