My brothers and sisters
My family of a million
With but one name
"Ant how you doing"
"Is there and  Mr A ant here"

We all walk the walk,
We all talk the talk,
But I want to be more,
But family is everything
In our kingdom all are one.

Cant I be more than a worker
Cant I be more than a warrior
Cant I be a hippopotamus
A kangaroo,
A duckbilled platypus
Ok, ok I went a little too far.

My queen is our mother
Creator of us all,
Speaks to us in the great hall
"My children"
"You do a mother proud"
"Remember we are one"
"But we are singular to ourselves"

Mother is right I am me, not the
Same, but we are family. We are
Individuals but part of something
Bigger, I walk off happy in my hill
Knowing that I am more when I
Have my family.

"Hi Ant"
*"Right back at ya Ant-on"

They were always up there, when
Moments of cognitive reflection started,
Gathering they went from white to grey.

They would start to think, rumbling
As Liquid thought meet with ice
Particles of deliberation.

Then thoughts would strike from their
Being to the solid below, it would be the
Beginning of words as gravity took hold.

Precipitation fell, first thoughtful drizzle,
Then as words spoken, each raindrop
Was voiced on the terrain below.

They uttered for what seemed like a
Deluge, their words flowed down
Streams and rivers to the waiting sea.

Words spent, that flowed no longer, not
Talked but evaporating skywards to the
Waiting white, to be spoken once more.

Opposites never so much the
Same, one warmth, one cold
Each a measurable effect on
The other.

Heat melts cold, then steams
Of passion unfold, where once
was rage, now soothed upon
By cold calm words. That breath
Relief upon radiating heat, now
Cooled but not hot neither cold.

Difference is not always negative
Not always bad, from difference
A new respect can be had. one
Warmth, one cold, but never more
the same as when love unfolds.

Little white seeds of
Floating pure death,
Touched upon cleansed,
But gentle skin they
Burrow in.

With the whisper of a
Touch, so Greeting
The little white spores
Expelled upon deaths
Blossom to once again touch.

Winds whisper their elegance,
Pearly shards glide gently,
Contaminate with placid
Quietness, never seeing
But now but a flower.

To breath the white snow,
Planting upon the ever,
Blossoming whispers on
Top of skin fresh, watch the
Flower die, then the bloom
Will feed upon new soil
New bone, it feeds well as
Long as the living are fresh.

We laugh,
We smirk,
At global warming.
Yet an invisible
Deity, we believe
In without question.

Question mark? which is more real...

Dandelions play
Children scatter in the wind
Natures angels fly