IMPROMPTU PROMPTED BLOGGERISH

Predawn

When the torch burst into flame
They were scrabbling in the dirt.
Looking for the metaphore.
The poem of life,
A comparison of dirt to the flame.

The crumbling bones of ancestors
Sifting between gnarled digits,
Pithicanthropine eyes
Squinting.

Wondering.
Seeing.
Thinking?

Ignoring the smell of torch inflamed sizzling hair.
Whose mind contains the flame?
Not yours.

You who spurn the pull of animalia inteligentsia,
Preferring the tug of human ignorance.
Ignoring the fact that sentience is where you find it.