Tell me, 

what is alive in this forest?

Where is the ripest fruit?

I cut down every tree growing green,

searching, swiping, staying 

on the surface.

I take a bite, 

and spit it out.

This flesh is bitter.

I know there’s something else that’s better.

I go on testing and discarding.

There’s no resting, 

cuz I’m starving.

Arms outstretched, 

eyes glazed over,

belly never full.

I’ve leveled the entire forest, 

and not found one worthy fruit.

What am I missing?

With sorrow and pity,

I fall to the floor.

Cheek to the dirt,

an earthworm squirms beside me.

Crawling, gnawing, writhing.

It eats and eats, 

longing for wholeness. 

Aching for more than it is.

Its hunger

feeds the soil.

Its struggle

completes the circle.