The Already Flung

We’ve been roamers since the caves

Human ants emerging from our sandstone burrows 

Scurrying across Earth’s surface like grains on a breeze

Step after curious step we seek what’s outside us

Or flee what harms us

A perpetual migratory quest

There is no stopping it

The world will orbit again 

The ant hills will open

The roamers will roam

You can’t unfling the already flung

The scattered cannot be unscattered.

Using Format