Sometimes I imagine I’m just like an ant in an ant colony,

Inside one of those big glass boxes where the eyes of the nymphs outside follow me and laugh at my life’s monotony.

They preside over my world of dirt,

Watching me scuttle through dark, stretching tunnels with eyes that glow with pity for my world of hurt.

But I, I don’t feel any pain,

I don’t think about anything so for me nothing’s wrong with every day being the same.

I’m fine to go along without a mind,

To be pushed by the throng through the everyday grind.

Like an android, doing the same mindless routine,

Always so bleak, never time alone to reflect and to dream.

And those nymphs who think themselves so grown-up and acute,

Anything that points to their blind innocence they refute.

They think themselves wise and separate enough to pity us ants,

While they can’t even seem to find their pants.

One day I randomly stopped,

I stopped in my tunnel and to the floor my knees dropped.

“What am I doing?” I asked a dirt mound,

And then I laughed and laughed out loud at the irony I found all around.

These thoughts blew around me like pollen, giving rise to the flowers of freedom;

Four words, one question: All it took to see them.

I am free because I can see my condition,

And since I can see my condition I see there’s a whole universe beyond the small, dark, narrow tunnel that’s been blocking my vision.

Four words, one question: “What am I doing?”

And I have control of myself… I have the power to see the ideal I must be pursuing.