This Worm


United States
30° 12' 36.8316" N, 81° 44' 45.186" W

On a small sunshine covered leaf
A little white egg rests,
Listening to the words of the wind
And waiting to begin earth’s tests.

One misty morning
A little head bursts through
Lifting its eyes to the world around,
Recognizing a bluebird’s coo.

This little head is part of a little worm
So innocent and yet so wise.
All its ancestors’ history
Can be seen in its little eyes.

This small worm wiggles its way
Across and through the trees,
Gathering up true nutrients
And leaving secret keys.

Soon this little worm has grown
And begun to form a strong cocoon.
For in this great big dangerous world,
It must be kept from doom.

The airtight chrysalis will save this worm
From thunder, lightning, and rain.
Sheltering it from the world around,
‘Til sunlight is met again.

All too soon the time is near
For this little worm to meet the sun once more,
To break free from its protection,
And to say “au revoir” to the forest floor.

For now this little worm
Is not so little anymore.
It’s grown gigantic beautiful wings
With which it soon may soar.

These symmetrical works of art,
Painted by God’s hand,
Are the end goal of this worm’s life
And the beauty for which works a man.

For a man’s life
Can be likened to a worm’s.
They are both filled with hardship
And give reason for squirms.

Yet, both end goals are for something of beauty
And both are for something of good.
Both shall cause children to pause and to ponder
Life’s mysteries and life’s wonders.


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