All Just Bugs to the Universe

How strange it must appear
to any that witnesses my act
of kindness to the lower life
forms that are mating bugs.

I see life,
not crushable pests
in my way. I see
those under the whim of
biology, not just
trying to get in
our way in their act of
love making.  


Does my behavior reflect
my partial mind's undisclosed
wish to not be crushed
underfoot myself? Thoughtless
comments voiced as gale force
winds. Mine, lost against
that wind. Ideas born from me
snuffed out without being heard;
without sprouting legs
to run or ride as Paul Revere,
broadcasting thoughts
meant to be heard.   


How ironic we are,
thinking of ourselves as
all powerful; able to just end
lives in tuned
with the seasons. Ourselves,
to a pulsar, a red giant;
in comparison to solar flares,
are those insects many
stomp upon without
second thoughts. Minuscule insects
whose bloated understanding
is diminutive when sized up
with those bodies up high.


To live is a privilege,
life should be cherished
between one another and those
lesser to ourselves. To space
all life is just one crushable bug
which easily can be snuffed out
without a second thought.

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