O, tiny beetle
Across our floor you crawled
Unaware of our presence
Your scattering feet scrawled
A kind of helpless dance
Along that slippy floor
Not knowing where you were going
Or what you were there for
Although first instinct
Was to crush you underfoot
That was quickly stemmed
As I saw you in your rut
And thought of myself
In just the same vein
Making the same mistakes
Over and over again
Rushing headlong
To the wrong destination
Immune to the truth
And dumb to sensation
So gently I picked up
This tiny dot of black
Carried you outside and
Lowered you into a pavement crack
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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