“The Worm Belongs to Roots”
Beneath the soil, a hero creeps,
not loud, not proud, but deep he sleeps.
A worm, so humble, calm, and wise,
who feeds the roots and never lies.
He tunnels slow, he works the ground,
he spreads rich life without a sound.
He gives the plant its silent might—
a servant, hidden from the light.
But lo! What comes with slime and greed,
devouring every growing seed?
The snail—so lazy, fat, and slow—
leaves trails of death where'er it goes.
It eats the buds, it chews with lust,
it leaves behind a glistening crust.
The gardener cries with sharp regret:
“Off to the compost with you yet!”
So hear these words, and guard them well:
The worm brings life, the snail brings hell.
Let worms stay close to roots and green,
but snails go where the rot has been.