Wormness

I'm just a simple cabbage worm, chomping on the leaves of Life. A nibble here, a nibble there; very little toil and strife. And when my mandibles are tired of chewing what I ate I sit upon the meaty pulp and coolly contemplate cabbages and kings becrawled and miles of Pieris feces I've left strewn upon my plate. Before I close my wormy lids, I say a little plea: Dear god of all us lowly worms, smile kindly now on me. If I should die before I wake, please make it quick and sweet. Should I end up within the gut of robin or of crow I do not mind whate'er befalls; I just don't want to know. But if I live to crawl again, please lead me to the Prize, the Cabbage of all cabbages where I may idolize Yourself, Great Worm, the Idol of Our Lives. Amen. And so, to sleep and lovely dreams of cabbages and kings and strewing miles of feces on celestial cabbage plates.