Single file
opaque eyes of ants
search in the dark.
Darkened grey concrete below
paves the voyage
from shadowed food
into dim tunnels below.
The vague, drab nature
of the moon on their backs
cascades itself into the
expanse of clouded night.

Faint whispers of supplement
call to the ants one by one.
Foggy dreams lead them on,
though the path is hidden
by the wariness that night brings,
They continue still.
Progress is made yet always unseen
and undiscovered
Together they travel
feeling the street
with instincts of caution.

A tilt of their tiny, ant head
shows the rising light in the distance;
a distance that must be covered.
As they crawl towards the light,
the light crawls towards them back.

The pace slows as the eternity defines itself.
A foot on their back slows their initial progress
as it pushes them forward and it pushes them down.
The light grows misty in its closeness.
A stalk of industrial obscurity climbs its way up
to cage the light in its place.
The effort of the ants is lost on the
wheel of the machine.

Yet, resilient as time,
the lamp post lights the way.