Things so sublime

When I stoop down to the ground,
and carefully observe things smaller than a pound,
A world right under my eyes and I could hardly perceive.
I rubbed my eyes and thought them to be deceived.
Marvelous inventions which perplex wise men's minds.
Oh to see a creation so majestically divine.
I look into your coal black eyes,
I watch as you flee away and fly high to the sky,
Your mouth moves like a hydraulic press,
It is astonishing I must confess.
Who has formed your heavenly wings,
Who has forged your mighty sting?
Your kingdom lies below the beggars bed,
Your cities lie where cattle are fed,
For your armored breast, who smithed?
I had thought it to by a myth.
Below the tread of men's boots,
Below the trees oaken roots,
You work, you war, in harvest so store.
How is it that your nation has no poor?
Your queen sits on a mighty earthen throne,
She sits upon her enemies broken bones.
Your stature is so small, but deceivingly so,
For there is hardly a thing you cant overthrow.
Your armies overtake valleys in but a moment.
I could hardly comprehend your complex components.
Your castles and towers of terror oh so high,
From the very ground does strike fear in the skies.
Your workers have no disputing or division,
They are all united with one common mission.
Your soldiers fail not, nor cower away,
They together annihilate anything in their way.
Your queen conspires against you not.
But with love she reigns over you with her thoughts.
Perfect union and innocence together brought one.
The most beautiful thing under the sun.
Hardly can man compare.
For man is consumed with his own cares.
A people whose grievous enemy lies within.
Even rotten through with evil sins.
Whose people slay one another.
Whose children slaughter their brothers.
With kings against their subjects scheme.
Who devise every wicked and twisted dream.
With soldiers who turn back and fall away.
Who with fear and cowardice are slain.
Oh man, so mighty and so wise.
You are your own tragic demise.
You look up to things too high,
Whose vain imaginations are lifted high.
I tell you look below your own nose.
I'll tell you the ones who know.
Consider the ants of whom I speak.
Those little animals you call weak.
Which of their citizens come to poverty?
What corruption lies in their monarchy?
Do their soldiers flee in fear?
Do their citizens thrust one another with the spear?
Yet shall I speak of the ant,
whose might branches out as the leaves of a plant.
A nation so amazing,
whose reign is unfading.
So shall I speak of the ant.
Learn oh man, if you can.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem