Gestation of the Sacred Beetle

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