Birds glide through the skies daily.
Not a scintilla of worry about tomorrow.
They refuse to plant seeds and tend crops,
but they are always fed.
Seductive, affectionate flowers sprout
and spray their beauty through the air.
They always enrich and captivate eyes without a modicum of effort.
Yet their elegance will always caress the silky face of the earth.
The warm hands of the sun massage the air,
fertilise open fields, and make rains to feed new life.
Whatever happens, the sun will rise again tomorrow and the next.
No drama. No complaints.
Many noble creatures roam wild and live rough.
They fend for themselves without fuss.
They feast on nature's benevolence in peace.
They thrive without Internet or AI.
No identity politics or contrived news stories to distract them.
Spare a thought, though,
for all the clever folks, tortured by their daily fears,
driven by compulsive obsessions
and controlled by the pursuit of gratuitous possessions.
Their journey is an endless, dreary toil.
It steals their sleep and infects their dreams.
Life, becomes a timeless competition, a rat race.
They fight and hold grudges.
Worry is inevitable.
Yet, in the end,
does any of this add even a single hour more
to the span of their lives?