On stony ground, a small black beetle, <br />a scarab struggles; stubbornly he toils, <br />to push, to roll a large brown ball of dung. <br />When ball sticks, he tries a pull, if no go, he <br />climbs on top and crawls forward on the dung; <br />the ball rolls forward under extra weight. <br />The beetle falls, gets up and begins to push again. <br />He repeats this many many times, a push, a pull, <br />a climb, a fall, get up, push on, till ball of dung <br />finds resting hole, and is a larder for the young. <br />Scarab fights not for self, it has no selfish <br />thought of that, he perseveres, he carries on, <br />he ensures survival for the life that is to come.<br /><br />Bob Blackwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/resolve-5/
