mouldiwarp

[mouldiwarp]

Don’t come to me when it’s time to die

Find my tracks when life is nigh

Breath fresh air and know I’m there

Digging dutifully below in the dark somewhere

Find my furrows, burrows and thoroughfares

Under fence lines, oak trees and mounds somewhere

Don’t set me traps or feed me poisoned worms

Find my place, sit back and watch for squirms

Little puffs and spouts of earthen black soil

Good as gold and twice as rich

Worth more to the earth than pools of oil

Gardens grow because I toil

I cannot live in machine packed soil

Where my claws fail, flimsy fledgling roots are doomed to flail

Until they flounder, dry up, and return to dust asunder

Let me be, and make my tunnels, undoing what you’ve done down under

- Mouldiwarp

[mouldiwarp]

In the time it takes surface eyes to blink

I’ve seen my meal, seized it whole, and known it’s taste

You lie in wait, and speak of ‘no time to waste’

To the eyes of mine you plod a languid pace

Leaving life’s sweet nectar far too swift for you to taste

My life is short compared to yours, yet it takes no time to find my place

I move with speed, efficiency and grace

Yet it is your slow, long and painful life that resembles a race

You hide from cold, and are never warm

You build homes, yet have no place

You erect grand sepulchers and sites of worship, yet lack connection to The Great

You forsake simplicity for a full and piling plate

Never enough, always more, enacting war when neighbors have that which you look for

Touting peace, love and prosperity

Leaving destruction, pain and poverty

Casting down the likes of you that wish to live much closer to

The blanket that will warm their bones

The house beneath them, to be soon their home

That which they cannot possess, which they are born to own

Bought and paid for with their bones

The down-payment is their soul

How you live is how you’ll die

Think no more and live to die

- Mouldiwarp

[mouldiwarp]

I am blind to the world in which you live.

Scratching, coughing and spitting through mounds of dirt, from one damp dark respite to the next.

Masterfully, I rework and reshape the bowels of the earth. Man knows not the deeds I’ve done, nor what it is they benefit from.

Shuttling surreptitiously from sunny surface world to the reaches of the deep, I bring with me from below the riches stored beyond man’s reach.

Fresh soil, dark and rich

Pathways for oxygen to reach

Deeper and deeper I go

Round in circles

Down in dips

Searching

Sniffing

Snatching

With my claw-equipped fingertips

Your life is bright, and well lit

But there is a great many things you do not see all about it

An entire world, vital, relevant, unseen

Just beneath your well-shod feet

Your monuments and homes are trophies of triumph over nature

How far removed can one be?

How clothed? How housed? How happy?

You walk above me, sometimes right on top of me. You live above all living things, for the sake of feeling safe and finding ‘happy.’

But as you walk past, soaring high above me, with your clothes, your shoes, and your money, even with my sun-blind eyes, sadness and sorrow are all I see.

The spirit of this earth seeks to exalt those that toil in the dirt and the darkness

And to teach those that forgo the lessons of simplicity with ample helpings of humility

Your ancestors raised kingdoms and hoisted crowns

Leaving behind the human task of effort and toil, being one with the ground

Claiming dominion in the highest heavens

Mine did as they do now, and were as they will ever be, happily digging in the dirt beneath your feet

Making inroads to the underworld most peacefully

To the little gentleman in black velvet

- Mouldiwarp