The Slug

The Slug, he sat, and watched,

wept dry to see

his life.

His life, was crushed, and botched

for life sets free

The Slug.

The bier, was still, and nigh,

swept wet, too green

this death.

This death, too fast, and high

The bier.

The grass, it grew, some how,

poked sky, so grey

for God.

For God, wrought -- he thought-- now

The grass.

God ran, to help, his friend,

wept wet, to see

The Slug.

The Slug, sat crushed, at end

God ran.

The Slug, and God, they met,

at bier, to see

this Joy.

This Joy, is ours, is set,

for death set free

I am.