A beetle flutters away from the balls of dung
Inside him, an escape plan had sprung
To leave this pastoral aroma
And adopt a warrior’s persona.
But leaving his dung rolling family
Was rather an insurmountable task
He kept on pleading to his folks
Said it was the first thing he ever asked
Drying her eyes, the mother packs his bag
Approving the demand
The father advises him what not to lack
His determination, his concentration
And in major proportion, his humility
Or this soul-searching journey
Would end in shame and futility.
Keeping in memory his home town
To which it would be long before he returned
He strides forward in search of a master
To reach the level he had always yearned
Pointing his horn towards the north east
The beetle flies at noon to avoid the morning mist
Down there was his mother
With a kerchief in her hand
Sobbing and waving at the same time
Unknown to where next he would land
Our hero then meets Andy the house fly
Who was buzzing around the dung as always
He says, “Do what a beetle does, you fool
You seem to be in the denial phase.”
Without saying a word, the beetle walks past
Pitying on the naive fly
Who was concealed from the world so vast
The man didn't stick to caves and stones
Just see how he is an how he wast.
On halting to eat, the beetle sees
Ben, the hopper, hopping by
He then comes near the beetle
To ask where was he heading and why
Taking out the food he carried
The beetle depicts his voyage so far
“Go to the world’s end.” says the hopper
“But leave the way back home ajar.”
Welcoming the counsel, the beetle strolls ahead
Analyzing what his two friends had said
On he goes to fulfill his goal
On he goes to reach his dole.
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