Apart from breathing, how gain you respect
Above that which low life forms should possess?
Unto your passage here, what laurels bedeck
Triumphs composed of honest wit and sweat?
All wealth accrued through ill begotten gain,
All merit worn so weaved from black deceit,
All pleasure buoyed by other people’s pain,
All efforts glazed with greasy greed replete.
Scurvy dung beetle metering out it’s time
Each day that ball of refuse larger grows;
Living off earth’s dirt and filth and grime,
Prisoner of the only life it knows.
If there be gods, one day a gracious step
Shall crush that bug so it no more beget.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.