Ants made home in the front yard
One carries a heavy piece of wood
Another carries some sort of food
Day in and out always work hard.
Carry with indomitable conviction
No second guess, pressing forward
To the hole, take the load downward
No matter how harsh their mission.
When it rains and ruins their shelter
I wonder if they think it's God's will
If any of them in this despair falter
Thinking cruel God willed to ****.
And when i'm watering the plants
It breaks my heart to watch the ants
To think i'm the God of destruction
Would it also be their assumption?