Cicada's Song

I took note of besotted butterflies
Radiantly sipping sweet nectars of life
This rapture could only be disguise
Fleets of concinnity plainly show lies

I considered the ants in cities of dirt
Unaware of their names and by no means were hurt
They pranced and they danced, but what were they worth?
A feeble existence on the vast plane of earth

Does the grasshopper conceive his inability to fly?
Does he grow weary of jumping so high?
Is his ambition also his demise?
An insect will never caress the sky.

Then a wise praying mantis to me did say
"Rise from your tomb before you decay.
Think not, judge not. Too quickly we fade."
After seven years of sleep, I lived for one day.

...and now I sing for a world that was never mine.