The grasshopper makes the strangest of sounds, so loud and frenzied that the noise drifts easily in the summer breeze to the shell of your ear. Perhaps you are hearing things, and have finally severed the remaining threads of sanity, but you swear that the murmur deepens, as though something joins the harmony that the grasshopper has created. Maybe it was the deep-bellied song of a bird high above you. It could even be the melody earth itself excretes as it arouses from its slumber. But what had it unweave the last shreds of its trancelike dream?
Your eyes settle back onto the pitiful grasshopper. So frail, so easily crushed underfoot. His minuscule life, so effortlessly altered and transformed, for better or for worse. Yet look at how unbothered he was by such a notion! It did not matter to him that his lifeline grew thinner as the hour grew longer; he lives life with the same energy that had been bestowed to him at birth; carefree and uncomplicated. You loathe his simple existence.
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I Pity the Grasshopper | ✔
Spirituali am vaster than the sky above me. i thrum with the fibrous light of vitality. i am the earth and everything below.
