History

A wise man once said
(or so I have read)
That history
Is the lengthening of  a man’s shadow
But then
Even the smallest ants cast long shadows

And as the shadow is cast
Shortening, waning, life being so fast
We have to hold on to that breath
That moment
When the grain of sand
Falls through the neck
On growing heap to land

And in a race,
The small ant will run
As the rising orange face
Smiles with mischievous fun
For small he is, yes, so small
Yet his shadow made him tall

historytimerhyme

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