On The Muddy Edge (Poetry)

I stand at the edge of the thick black mud
and see for an instant a worm crawl free
a worm that might turn through eternity
evolve like the Maker decreed it should
grow limbs and stand: ugly-mock-up Man

That thick black mud flicked over me
so I cannot tell so easily
the worm from who I used to be
when I once crawled... well the slime still stinks
we’ve come less far than old Darwin thinks