Tiny craftsmen of the lowliest of materials which, when rolled by their legs, is turned into a potent fuel for life; into the first scaled-down worlds they have to burst through before setting foot into the greater sphere we all walk on.
The ball is womb, home, food and purpose, a life's work lovingly polished even after the larvae start growing inside, lest moss gather on the smooth surface and hinder the children's growth.
Such is the virtuosity with which the dung beetle makes life that the ancient Egyptians had to bestow upon them the domain of Dawn, explaining the advance of the Sun through the heavens as the rolling work of the beetle-god Khepri, granting the light and warmth of our existence the beauty only a work of divine art can have.
