A legless, lowered slither,
A worm’s a creeping thing;
in fetid dirt it burrows
Safe from higher stings.
Shame and ego pass
Unheralded, unknown;
So animal and earthy,
it makes of shit a throne.
‘Tis only man who walks
Two-foot with measured stride;
To be “upright” is honor,
to “stand so tall” is pride.
O happy worm! You fathom
Naught of what you lack;
Six feet underground
Both day and night are black.
Yet had you glimpsed the sun
But once, its end you’d mourn;
So might the legless man
Wish he had not been born.
