The lowly little worm came up From somewhere within the soil Moving in no hurry and Hurting all about itself from the roughs of the earth Picking up water and succor from the same rough Climbing up to the blades of grass Which it helps to grow Eating its spoils and Diseasing its live leaves too.. I could hear it calling anyone And asking what is this Is it selfish and cruel Or otherwise ? Can I go on like this in the endless chain The ever green virgin land Calls for the farmer’s sowing Making it paste for buds, blooming into fruits In the ancient ever alive trees A flowing continuum…
