The Ant

I sit in distress, holding my head in my hands

slumped over my knees staring at the ground.

I watch hot tears fall on the cold tile,

when an ant walks into view.

He's confined himself to one tile,

peaking over the grout convinced it's an abyss.

He feels trapped, and becomes stagnant

as he steeps in his own microscopic ignorance.

Can't you see, wee one,

how many lines and shadows you've traversed to get here?

Why should these impair you now?

Can't you tell that you've been here before?

Awakening to the similarity of our situations,

I wondered who had been watching me?

Stumble over illusory affliction,

when my path is unobstructed.