Muddled Meditations

Sometimes I sit and wonder.

What it’d be like to be a bug.

To spend all day,

Crawling or perhaps flying.


 

Incessantly searching for,

Whatever it is they need.

Food? Water?

Why even bother?


 

Then,

I realize not much is different.

Between me,

And a little bug.

Our search coincides,

Around that which is inside.


 

Their world, my world.

Both revolve around the same thing.

One tiny life except upright.

Walking, or perhaps running into decay.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s