The Worm - train writing F' to Delancy

The worm slides slowly towards a distant bright light, the most beautiful color and glorious sound,
He moves never looking behind him with a certain focus that equals distance,
Most don't know where he's traveled from, most don't know how long the worm has been traveling,
The worm slides inch by inch toward what he believes to be his finish-line,
The worm moves at speed of cold honey getting closer and closer to the light,color,and sounds.
Without the world working around the worm, there would be no doubters of his journey,
Without the wind tossing thoughts and ideas... there would be nothing pushing him back as he excepts each thrust forward,
Without the sun beating life, hot air, and exhaustion onto the worms back... the race to his personal legend would not be so confusing and difficult,
As the worm gets closer there is no one around,
The thoughts one may have in a marathon may vary from night to day, some days harder than others, easier than sum,... tiring.
But for the worm the only thing to do is head towards the distant bright lights with their kaleidoscope of colors inviting harmonious sounds and peace,
So the worm inches slowly forward never looking back,
Towards a distant bright light, the most beautiful color and glorious sound.