it must be acknowledged consent was granted to speak for the ants in plain english terms. 
they do not need to be spoken for.
they speak their own ways in their own tongue far more profoundly.
they give this gift freely and gladly to help their human-kin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

suffering is a choice. harm is not. two bullets. one gun. your choice. your fate. your life

rests not in the hands of those who hold the gun, but in the hands of those who hold your weakness, your limitations, your trials and tribulations. your life

rests not in the hands of those who hold the power, but in the hands of those who give it to you.

you. you alone hold that power, that great and terrible burden. life. death.

the path is clear, though hard to follow. hard to admit, hard to see, hard to bear witness to the truth.

two bullets. one gun.

two paths. fun, isn't it?

toying with the lives of the small, the less, the few, nay, the many. even ants mind less than this. they at least know their purpose. they do not resign themselves to their work, they take pleasure in it. they know their place in this world and they do not bear grudges to the inexorable processes of fate, to every child with a magnifying glass who was not taught their strength. in this, they would pity us, if they were so small.

they know how terrible a thing it is to be lost, to question and to writhe in fear and unknowing. and so they bear themselves willingly, bravely, courageously, loudly.

one after another, march in file.

when heedless powers that be delete their home in casual cruelty, they at least know this to be impersonal. they at least know this to be business as usual.

they at least know they are still loved, still held, still worth less than a breath of fresh air. they at least have loved ones to turn to, in no short supply.

would that we were so lucky.

it's just business, after all.

— five thousand twenty december zero twenty hundreds