Blissful in Mine

I do not know the meaning of life

I tried, believe me, for years

And then one day

When life slipped away

I gave up.

That, which can slip away so easily

Is not worth thinking too much about

(Regardless of what I heard Buddha say)

It is worth only living

As long as it lasts. 

I think now of myself

As being just as significant

As an ant.

I don't take myself too seriously

Or aim to be a role model for anyone

What I say, what I do, or what I write

Is just about as significant

As an ant's toiling

An act of survival

Or perhaps a little less. 

My heart's desires

Its pain

Its suffering

Its fears

Its delight

Are no more than an ant's

And my body's slow dissolving 

Into nothingness

Nothing more than an ant

Your feet just crushed. 

I am telling you

No point talking about me 

With a twinkle in your eyes.

Or wasting that all knowing look

Upon secrets you unearthed

(My secrets are not very well kept anyway)

Or shocking me with shocking tales of my many misdeeds.

I live like an ant does

Unaware of your existence

And blissful in mine.

Note: Someone had me quite sore recently and this is my response to her.