Beneath the sunlit canopy, they march,
In lines drawn by ancient whispers,
Carrying dreams in tiny armored hearts,
A dance of purpose on the forest floor.

In the shadows of towering giants,
They weave stories with grains of sand,
Building empires from fallen leaves,
A testament to their tireless quest.

Their whispers echo through the earth,
In silent symphonies of unity and toil,
Each step a chapter in their endless saga,
An ode to resilience written in dust.

Beneath the stars, they rest and rise,
In the gentle embrace of night’s veil,
Dreaming of paths yet to carve,
In the boundless world of their tiny stride.