The fertile egg
Not often has one read this,
about a fertile egg in poetry.
More so in books that contain,
Other lines of somber strains!
But when and should one ask an egg,
how it awaits the sperm’s ardour?
Perchance much stands explained,
The sperm exists not –
The egg remains!
Bemused at the sperm’s great ardour –
In fusion it generates its own points –
Perchance fission brings forth the foetus’s stands!
But how does the egg think of the sperm?
After it has been found and fused into!
Perchance gratitude forgotten nor scarce shown,
Its silent wait – and a baby is born!
The egg remains!
Fission generated for fusion to take place,
The sperms valiant efforts to cease!
The egg remains,
Perchance bemused – for if one looks at life carefully,
They say a million sperms die for a single egg!
Then the males devised a way to hide,
those memories of death and sleep!
For men had no choice but to use brute strength,
and carve a place of their own!
If seen carefully, the lion no doubt is the king of animals – its wisdom sparkles in its habits and pride!
Now we know why humans admire the lion so!
Of latter developments for the humans – when the woman
takes both the home and the hearth,
and often the kids too!
And bestows upon the male, an admiring glance,
and praises the instrument of his death!
It all starts right there and the entire story is told –
when the egg happily consumes the sperm!
(Apart from the mortal fears that females induce in males - of being cuckold!)
