"You are no better than the ground under my feet,
the mud under my toes,
the leaves with which I break."

I permitted his words to take root.

"You are no smarter than the worms that dry, lifeless,
the insects that run, fearful,
the roots that grow, downward,

I allowed them to sprout within my mind.

"You are no cleaner than the feet that trample these soils, the creatures that rot on these grounds, the much that decays within the mud."

I felt as they entwined among my thoughts

"You see but the surface," I say,
"The leaves, behold their colors!
The worms, watch as they work!
The roots, observe how they keep what's above alive!
See the creature's grace?
See the being's that trample these soils?
You see but the surface!," I say,
"So go ahead! Repeat!
I'll gladly be no better than the ground under your feet."