Ah, Little Woodlouse, Are You Unreal?

Ah, Little Woodlouse – Are you Unreal? Ah, little woodlouse, wood-rot emerging, light-avoiding, damp-a-seeking along the path you crawl. Yes, little woodlouse, surroundings-aware, dryness-detesting, distressed and sad you are. Know, little woodlouse, the journey you make exists for me and me alone, An illusion you are. Go, little woodlouse; I shut my eyes - Depart my world, exist no longer. Back to dank and dark decay. You, little woodlouse, In my mind a passing glimmer; You live no more, a brief transition: I alone, created your being. Get this, wee creature, So ‘Meaningless! Meaningless!’ Your life is but a thing imagined; I alone, am real. Ah, little woodlouse, My eyes I open, I see you’ve gone; What manner of being were you? You held no thoughts, No soul, no mind, no spirit, Of these, not one; Whimsy, I say, a fancy - no more - Just a creation of my consciousness. This poem came from lying on the lawn and staring at an upturned piece of bark on the path and watching a woodlous (leather-jacket) creeping out from the damp in some disarray. It led me on to thinking whether it really existed or not and whether, indeed, anythng/person existed at all outside my consciosness....... 'Meaningless, Meaningless' is an allusion to the oft-repeated phrase in the Book of Ecclesiastes.