Ahead in their tunnels those blind beetles gnaw under the sky of bark.

Some are filled with energy in their endless gnaw, some are tired into the bottom of their chitin guts. But they gnaw and gnaw, all together, all alone.

Ahead in their tunnels, 40 hours a week, 50 hours a week, 80 hours a week the most ambitious ones. The goal of life is burning bright, to gnaw and gnaw.

Sometimes two tunnels meet and two beetles probe with antennas each other to feel the warmth of stranger’s touch. They lie down a while. They caress and sigh. And then ahead to gnaw and gnaw.

One by one their lose their strength without understanding the real meaning of their gnawing existence. Tunnels end.

Only we who debark the tree can understand it later. We can see the bigger picture. The meaning of beetles’ lifes was to create a twinkling star out of pine trunk. Star more beautiful than those in sky above.

Ahead in our tunnels we people gnaw under the sky of clouds. We gnaw and gnaw. All together, all alone. Endlessly gnaw. Who can see the purpose of our tunnels?