I am a grub, Yes, A grub. Creeping along, I consume, All that I can To change. I know, A caterpillar Is more appealing, But most Become moths, Desperately seeking The light in the darkness. And metamorphosis, Is a messy process No matter what. Inside you ooze, As you destroy What you were. As a grub I will not take flight In a dazzle Of butterfly color. No, I will be firmly on earth - Grounded. And like the dung beetle I will take the crap Of others, And create something. And my carapace Will be strong And iridescent In the light of the day.