
The open meadow
Still as still can be
Nothing moving
No blade of grass, no tree
Still as statues
Stability
In a mad mad world
Through the stillness
Snaking left and right
March tiny orange ants
Almost hidden from sight
Unaware of evil
And lies and other sad facts
Of a mad mad world
No torches needed
They weave from A to B
Working hard
Efficiently
A brotherhood of ants
Foraging, collecting
And carrying on
Normally
In a mad mad world


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