Crowned Sovereigns

In the heart of an anthill, a tiny realm unfurls,
where diligent ants toil, their purpose unswerved.
Their queen, a regal soul, her mandate clear:
“Build, gather, thrive—our empire we revere.”

Her majesty, a minuscule monarch, yet grand,
commands her subjects with an unwavering hand.
She wears her crown of purpose, not of gold,
for in unity they labor, their story told.

The anthill pulses—a bustling metropolis.
Each worker a bricklayer, a tireless optimist.
They weave tunnels, chambers, intricate veins,
their labor a hymn to the earth’s ancient strains.

But beyond the anthill’s earthen walls,
lies a world vast and wild, where destiny calls.
Other empires rise and fall, their grandeur fleeting,
yet the ant queen persists, her purpose unyielding.

She dreams of empires beyond her sandy domain
of towering cities, rivers that kiss the plain.
Her antennae quiver with whispered tales
of queens who wore crowns of stars, not scales.

And so, she sends her emissaries forth,
tiny explorers, brave souls of boundless worth.
They traverse blades of grass, climb dew-kissed stems,
seeking secrets hidden in nature’s diadems.

In the shadow of oaks, they find their muse,
a queen of another kind, her throne recluse.
She wears no earthly crown, but one of light,
her empire vast, the cosmos, infinite and bright.

“Dear ant queen,” the cosmic sovereign imparts,
“Your realm may be small, but it beats with heart.
Embrace your purpose, your humble domain,
for ants can shape empires, leave a cosmic stain.”