Wandering as I have
With my little black shell
Through tiles instead of blocks
Streetlights and clocks
Their journey seems similar to mine
Lost but not lost
Perusing to find
Motiveless divine
Due to the lack of understanding
My path may seem pathless
Perception is controlling
Knowledge will set you free
Over the false slate tile they roam
On the floors of fast food restaurants
They have no propagation so it seems
Existence is all that holds their seams
What do you know?
You cannot read their mind
You know not if they have one
We look at them as God looks at us
They're sentient and aware
They must have some goal worth living for
God must think we're all
Just as beetles on the floor
