he ran through the lines , letting the skills he 'd developed for this sort of thing take their natural course as his brain digested and regurgitated the riddle again and again : the smallest thing begins to grow it needs no light , it needs no glow this thing , it fears the weakest breath and yet it can not embrace death the greatest man or bull or steed or queen or doe or stinging bee eats it , smells it , drinks it some and one day it they will become tick sat in the wind and the cold and relaxed , doing what he did best .