The worm is hungry, at the other end an inviting odor,
The terrain in-between noxious, a single neuron inhibits crossing order.
That I can explain on the basis of a neuron, the behavioral response,
Makes me treat it as non-sentient, to be crushed as a sponge.
The fly is courting and mating, there's a dopamine rush,
The dopamine inhibits the circuit, that makes it fly when I crush.
That levels of a neurotransmitter, can explain its readiness to act,
Makes me treat the fly as expendable, put them in the non-conscious set.
The worm and the fly, are pulled between pleasure and pain,
Between a catastrophic loss, and possibilities of gain.
If chemicals and cells, can explain all their feat,
Are they conscious, have agency, can they choose or feel?
I think they are sentient, we can give them the benefit of doubt,
They suffer and pine like we do, though they may not cry out loud.
PS: This poem was inspired by reading this article today by long-time blogger-days friend Bjorn Brembs.