Life’s Significance
I’m sitting here with that sweet, familiar, yet indescribable smell blowing gently to my face.
Two humans sit a few yards away from me, talking and eating the school’s food.
I’m writing this because I have a question.
I’m watching ants dutifully tear apart a dead, green beetle on it’s back.
The ants are many in number.
The ants don’t stop to think, “This was once a life, as I am a life.”
They never think, “This poor creature.”
They don’t even think that they are mutilating a body.
They only fulfill their duty.
Never questioning.
Never hesitating.
An odd-looking fly just landed on my jeans.
I tried swooshing it away.
But it came back.
I realized that it was feeding.
It dropped a gnat’s carcass and stayed for a while.
But now it’s gone.
Did it ever stop to think, “This could be me?”
The ants have made it inside of the beetle’s body.
I’m watching as they pile in until the beetle is full.
They are moving the body.
A tiny messenger ant just came to inspect and inform, I guess.
There’s one soldier ant making sure nothing hurts the others while also helping.
I can’t help but wonder: What would the world be like if we all helped one another like that?
Odd shaped and colored bugs are everywhere.
I never realized how many lives are out there.
No matter how insignificant.
The ants have stopped moving the body.
They are still going in and out of it, though.
I see a small yellow butterfly, and I wonder: Will the ants someday mutilate it, too?
Will they use the wings for something?
Or will it be just another supply source?
Will the butterfly even wonder what’s after its life?
Will it have any way of fighting back?
My question is: Does anyone have any way of fighting back Death?