When John was a little kid,
He was nowt much at all.
But, as a teen, he became a spotty almost-something.
A little later, he was a fierce x-ist.
And, at 25, he was a fierce anti-x-ist.
At the grand old age of 35,
He might have been a fierce x-ist again -
But he didn’t and he wouldn’t.
So to go backwards again: as a older less-spotty teen
He passionately believed x… for a day.
Then passionately believed not-x the day after.
And, the week after that, he fervently embraced y -
Only to jettison y when z came along.
Yes indeed — John’s views shifted like waves on a sea.
Sometimes John can’t even recall who he was last week.
And has no idea who the hell he’ll be tomorrow.
In fact John doesn’t know who he damn-well was
Before all this worming around began.
Nothing much of John’s young body remains —
Save a neuron here and another cell there.
Not much of his mind remains from childhood.
Sure; he retains some silly quirks —
But they’re few in number.
It’s also allowed that John’s 35-year-old face
Is somewhat similar to his 30-year-old face.
Which, in turn, was somewhat similar
To his 25-year-old face. Etc.
Yet his of-coursely wise 35-year-old face
Is a stranger to his callow 20-year-old face.
A spacetime worm is a runner
Who passes the baton to another runner
Who passes the baton to another runner…
Yet each runner is the self-same.
Each runner is the same worm.
So John is a spacetime worm.
He passes on something, I know not what,
From John the Worm to John the Worm to John the…
Tomorrow John won’t be as he is today.
Though he’ll still, somehow, worm his way
Into tomorrow from today -
Just as he’ll worm his way into the day after tomorrow.
So isn’t there at least a little something —
I know not what —
Passed on from John the Worm to John the Worm to John the…?
But what, exactly, is that something?
