What to be or not?
It was a mellow night at a nearby pub
Whose locale is local but which you'll never see
(A quite exclusive club it tends to be.)
Bee buzzing a nondescript fly
For flitting with no goal nor even discretion
Aimlessly flying and fearfully fleeing
With nothing to show for its tame life when it died
But more of its kind doing the same.
Far better bee's class with workers
Producing nectar for gods, a home for their queen,
Her young, and generations to come.
Dutifully serving, together they work
To continue a V A S T scheme of things..
"Frog-spittle!” interjected a hopper
You're tied and you're twisted by plans not your own;
You gather without tasting the fruits of your toils:
You follow your leaders till the day that you die
Without ever breathing an unordered sigh.
“My life is much better.
I've traveled far and tasted whatever I pleased
With no thought for others (my poor fellow fools),
For bosses, the future my offspring, or home.
Surely I've experienced considerably more
And am no worse off than the most pompous of you,
when we all reach the day of our inevitable doom.."
“But what do you leave when you're gone?"
Bagged the bee. "It's all left to chance
What will happen to the rest of your kind?
You have no purpose but only consume
What falls at the end of your next nearsighted flight."