The tiny scorpion crawls along,

Navigating the rocks

Of a cavern, dark and long.

On and on it crawls.

A solitary, black figure,

It trudges along aimlessly

Bearing the sinister trigger,

Curved and ready to strike.

The unassuming scorpion plods on,

Neary invisible, cloaked in gloom,

But its peaceful obscurity will soon be gone;

Ahead, a shaft of light beckons.