I know not where a beetle goes,
to destinations random?
A blind alight, or stranger yet
a path that is predestined?
And armour-plated passes through
the singing songbirds innards
Triumphant on the other side of
this warm dark world of gizzards
With eggs deposited within
a most unlikely borrowed womb,
finds shelters from the the famine
It is a triumph seldom told
or seldom quite imagined.
That safe from harm
and safe as ants
from random steps of elephants,
this tomb becomes a womb