Of what value is one insect when
billions exist? How carelessly we
snuff the existence of these tiny
bits of life: one ant, one worm,
one mosquito, a fly, a roach.
We label plants “weeds” and dump
harsh chemicals on them, also
killing everything around them.
At what point does life become
precious when we even slaughter
children in wars and famines caused
by greed? Whose life has value —
yours, mine, but not theirs?
The Reluctant Poet 