March 25, 2012 ( Ants and triumph)

I strode through the willows today, my hands behind my back. My footsteps were slow and my pace was low, behind me the great wind howled. Faintly, I could hear the sound of trampling feet that shook little particles of soil. With weary eyes, I side-glanced to see a cuddle army of ants. Their tiny bodies bright orange, their six long legs pitch black. And the two things moving on their forehead, was the freakiest of that. My hands flew from my back to cover my parted lips, and back I sprung nearly on , all fours. I was miles away when the song of the marching rhythm finally reached me. To be truthful, it has always been there, it was just my panicked scream that, shunted it out. I could picture, in my mental eyes, thousands of orange black ants, marching in unisons. Carrying cargos 20 times their body weight. What are they marching for? Who knows. But they knew, deep down, they were marching for a greater purpose. A purpose more divine then their individual self. One day, perhaps in death, these ants will figure out what they had done in life, and realize that they had indeed done great for their kind. Right now, they accept what life has laid for them, and marched under the glaring sun, in triumph. I too, held my head up high with my nose against the sun, and marched home, my footsteps rumbled the earth.