Of Gods And Ant Hills Poem by John Fenton Mcleish

Armies of ants battle over mole hills
Each possesses its own Jerusalem
In the name of their god prepared to kill
Millions of poor women and children

This little blue marble that spins in space
Upon which what looks like bacteria
Is actually friend, the human race
A wee blemish on its posterior

How pathetic it looks from place afar
Each bacterium thinks its special
Just like the mold on a petri dish jar
Doesn't know its inconsequential

On the edge of the cosmic manifold
Lies a tiny blue speck covered with mold