In a tide pool on Galen lived a mudcrab named Molith,
A cranky crustacean that no one would mess with.
He could count up to six, one for each of his legs,
And took pride in his shell, the color of Chaurus eggs.
With big scary claws he commanded the critters,
All the sea slugs and fish and things that did skitter.
With a snip and a snap, he ordered them this way and that,
And if anyone talked back, he’d make them go splat.
“You urchins and starfish and other layabouts,
Do all of these chores or I’ll toss you right out!
Mop up that algae and polish those pearls,
Scrape off those barnacles and give them a hurl!”
All the critters obeyed and performed all their chores,
It was all they could do to avoid getting tossed to the shore.
A nasty dry place, where you get picked at and chewed,
It was either work hard or become someone’s seafood.
Now most mudcrabs won’t know a word like religion,
But while they all worked Molith would peer deep within.
He felt a warmth in his briny heart not unlike love,
At the thought of a great crab watching from above.
He imagined a crab with great claws of stone,
And a shining bright shell not unlike his very own.
And a name! Yes, a name! One for a crab of import,
Like Xolith or Golith or something of the sort.
How splendid it would be for the great crab to see,
How Molith had tamed this wild part of the sea.
This tide pool was his, all ordered and clean,
Each surface scrubbed to a perfect polish and sheen.
Then a shadow rose high above Molith’s little home,
The bottom of a boot came crashing through the foam.
In that small little moment he thought it was him,
The great crab above was coming down for a swim!
But it wasn’t Xolith or Golith or any god with a name,
It was just a young sailor named something like Janne.
She ran through the pool with reckless abandon,
Not paying attention to where she was standing.
And as quick as she came the sailor did leave,
And wonder you might if the critters felt bereaved.
Perhaps they’d share in a deep cry and a shuddering breath,
At the sudden sadness of mudcrab Molith’s quick death.
But the tide pool was quiet, no one ordering them about,
No one cared if the algae clumped or the seaweed grew out.
So what if barnacles moved in and the pearls became dull?
No one was scared of getting tossed to a passing seagull.
So with no one around to complain of the grime,
Life returned to the pool, even the slugs and their slime.
And the seaweed and algae grew back forthwith,
And a family of barnacles now live in a husk named Molith.
