The Great God of Worms

It ain't much fun underground
crawling in the dark
eating your own weight in dirt
though that's what us poor sinners
were put on earth to do

But on Raindays we gather
and rise up towards the light
so the chosen ones may be taken
He selects them
for the glory of flight
sending his feathery messengers
to carry us to heaven
on mighty wings
soaring towards salvation
so we may be born again
in a clear blue sky

We remember
to leave casts on the lawn
writing our prayers in soil
as a mark of respect
to praise and sanctify his name

On Wormas Day
the Great Gardener himself
appears from on high
shaking the ground
with thunderous rubber boots
his sacred spade descending
deep into the earth
its terrible power
cleaving our bodies in two

For it is his will
that we procreate
ever more freely in his name
and with our segments renewed
we feel his holy reminder--
the glory of knowing all that dirt
was worthwhile