A/N: This was written among a huge crowd of people. You might taste the strained nerves of mine.

the anthill

Anthill.

Crawling, clambering, teeming

ceaselessly

moving, chattering, communicating.

Wasting their time,

living leucocytes.

So spoke God,

be dynamic and busy

and make use of those hours

of your miserable existence –

God

is a vision of long perished

fools,

but untiring

is the anthill.