I don’t speak mole, but I feel the need to try…
Digging, I push through dark earth, busily clawing my way forwards, behind me pushing scoops of loosened grub-free soil. If I could, I’d leave no sign of my existence at all, preferring by far to live below ground out of sight, quietly tunnelling and forming my subterranean world, only surfacing to taste fresh air from the midst of my mountainous mole hills.
Existing in your world and mine too, I take no solace or consolation from the sun or stars above as you might, or the clouds or trees for that matter. I live in and for the soil. My focus is close, my ambitions are kerbed, and my territory is limited by nature; I know exactly where I’m at.
You will know where I’ve been though, for whilst I can be inconspicuous, my industrial spoils are heaped in plain sight. My earthen foothills
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