Gestation of the Sacred Beetle - Mirah

My mother made for me this pear

A perfect womb, a modeled lair

Where I will grow and eat my share

Of pastry rich beyond compare

With pressure kneads and shapes she well

The fruits of fields she has compelled

In shapely sustenance I dwell

This nascent nest my carousel

She leaves me thus and by the sun

I incubate, quicken, become

A hatched babe, a newly grub

Who praises maven mother’s love

Upon my birth see what I’ve found

A stercoraceous feast abounds

These alimentary gifts endow

What ruminant excess allows

And I begin to wax replete

Unfettered life is but to eat

Into the fruit but not the rind

Consume and fatten up sublime

urges I possess

Become a loose and amber flesh

Oh sober beauty make me smooth

While I await the turning moon

Emergent will thou concentrate

While August rains facilitate

The softening by which I elate

Burst forth a gleam to meet my fate

The joys of light, a drink so sweet

Before it’s time again to eat

But soon the victuals I greet

Begin, the scarab life complete