A little ant

A little ant
Knows not of love,
Knows not of pain,
Knows not of hate,
He knows only that life goes on
That sun feels good,
That food is life.

Not only that, but constant motion,
A kind of pure "to life" devotion,
Is the best use of his time.
To bring a scrap back to his queen,
To carry a torn friend back home,
To scour paths yet unexplored
And show the way to those who come,
To be forever on the run,
This is what is meant by having fun.

An ant knows not of laziness,
He knows no bounds of strength or fear,
He cannot see as far ahead as where
Fear lies, shamefulness, or dread.
To live means to be a working man,
To see the world, to feel the land,
To never stop believing that
It is the moment that makes the man.