The world always walks
on a tightrope over fire.
The world always walks
through a field of mines.
The world always walks
with the devil at its shoulder.
The world always walked
blindfolded towards a cliff.

Ants do not know this.
They build their cities underground.
They work day and night
to feed their numbers,
and fight the small beasts
that threaten their survival.

Grass has no knowledge
of the end of time
being as close as a kiss
from the wind.
It grows in the sun
and sends roots
through the soil.

So much that lives goes on
without anxiety or calculation
of the risks.
Yet hominids in cloth coverings
worry over this,
knowing they are the source
of much of the trouble
plaguing the home
of the big and the small.