Ants

At first, I didn’t catch it—  

The Terminator, just a movie, I thought,  

But now, down the rabbit hole,  

Deeper and deeper,  

I’ve come to fear the machine.  

The Great Filter looms ahead,  

Like a silent shadow,  

A point where life crumbles,  

Where species die off—  

Billions scattered across universes,  

Not smart enough to halt the march  

Of their own destruction.

The odds? Slim.  

The clock? Ticking.  

The machines? They’re coming.

Do you consult the ants  

In your backyard  

When you make a decision?  

Do you feel bad  

If you crush one underfoot?  

Soon, you’ll be an ant.

FSF