A child said what is the earthworm? Fetching it to me with full hands.
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
I guess it must be the shredded intestines of Mother Nature herself, squirming amongst the soil.
As they split and shred and sever, they grow, in quantity, to fill her hallow, dirty body.
Or I guess the earthworm is the untangled brain of every man on earth.
Not the ones who walk beside us, but the ones that sleep below.
As their bodies rot, their minds crave a journey,
So their brains come to life and pour from their cracked heads.
Or I guess the spawn of tree roots, being expelled deep below,
On a hunt for vegetation and nutrition to share with their elders.
And now it seems to me the inner plumbing of our world.
Like pipes that consume and digest the scum of the land,
They stretch below our feet and burrow in the waste of mankind,
Letting it flow into and out of their sticky bodies,
Breaking down bacteria that is blocking their pathways to nowhere.
Lining our planet as living filters, the brown translucent bodies,
Squeezing feces of processed nutrients from their end,
Which could also be their beginning, but continue to swallow and expel
As their life mission.
-Zoe NymanÂ
