Earthworm

“Earthworm”

The pangolin tells the earthworm:
“The best way to break through the earth is with sturdy armor and sharp claws.”
The tiger tells the earthworm:
“The secret to successful hunting lies in sharp teeth and an agile form.”
The coyote tells the earthworm:
“A more stable life comes from teamwork and cooperation.”
The spider tells the earthworm:
“A happy life stems from careful planning and thoughtful arrangement.”

The earthworm arches its body, trampling its own path into the footprints of others—
Wearing its skin thin like the pangolin, tensing its body like the tiger,
Standing in the coyote’s formation as a lonely line, calculating every step like the spider in its web.
It lives in constant learning and effort,
Pouring all its strength into every path others have pointed out.

Until one damp dusk, rain soaks all the duplicated footprints,
It suddenly falls into a lucid dream in that moist soil—
The more it imitated others in reality, the clearer it saw its own reflection in the dream.
“The more I learned,” the more winding its own path became.
Every borrowed truth turned into an unnecessary “ridge” in its soul.

So it releases the imitation held taut for half a lifetime,
Retreating to that original warm darkness.
There, no legends or victory reports, no medals or praises—
Only the innate softness, pulsing in the silence like a newborn heart.
Yet it still waits, waiting for a destined encounter.

Later, with no other choice, it could only believe in fate,
Believing that only through that seemingly accidental fungal kiss could it transform into cordyceps—
Only after death, after vanishing, after losing itself,
Could it be endowed with some kind of value that could be priced.

It was always a complete circle: tiny advances, silent deep cultivation,
Leaving beneath all things pores through which the world may breathe.
But it almost forgot—living in someone else’s world, you will never meet yourself.

The entire soil whispers in the silence after the rain:
“You need not become any metaphor.
When you cease imitating the shape of lightning,
The earth will finally recognize your one-of-a-kind footprints—”