I thought myself a driven insect
As I saw one fly against the pane,
Ever searching for some slim escape,
Probing the unseen borders of its cage.
He was my brother by lot, poor fellow,
For save he found a broken screen
Or darted through the slamming door,
His fate was fixed, was doomed for sure.
He couldn’t perceive, as I could see,
Open routes to his pure love out in the breeze.
Bug love, though small, is no less weighty
To a gnat than to a man or gentle lady.
So, though I felt me bruised and bound,
With power of body and choice to think,
If by no other token but mere belief,
By pain and process, I found my chink.
Ariel Hammon
I love this!!