Lowly

Ant under foot gives way to a gentle breeze, gripping earth, afraid to flee; scared to run amongst the traveling wind. A poor little humble bird sighs as she tries to fly against the storm, her sorrow falling way too soon.

Where has the sadness gone? Cowered in the light of a fading moon, she cries. "How the darkness has drifted away through my aching bones."

Please come back to warm my throne, keeping me safe from harm under the comfort of wings on a brow. Battered against a derelict monsoons trouncing veins undue, the setting Sun wept goodbye.

The universe cries with breathless angels in her wake, caressing the foundations of caitiff worms tunneling through earth. Awakened within stale air, feeling shame a poisoning drought, corrupting innocence and dividing the false; a native pretense. The dilemma...I am just a lowly ant, under a boot.