The Little
People, the grasshoppers of the world
Thinking,
half asleep thinking—
From
generation to generation duplicating
And
reduplicating
Eating
and laughing under the sun
Dancing
and talking, gossiping, getting drunk—
Indulging;
talk about the wise in mockery
(how
they want to live on forever—think they’re
cleaver,
better, because they’re wiser… )
Could
care less of possessing the future—
Grasshoppers
shrill, that is what it is called!
Piercing
the simple truth, “We’ll all be dead,
Buried
deep, muscle and bone, all alone,
Like
stone, very, very soon!”
Not
troubled until the day of ill repute—; like the
Grasshoppers,
they have the same temperament—
the little people.
#3347 (5-8-2012)
