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The snail-

That short is his trek and slow his pace, reveals
life is not a race
time is not meant to pass so fast.
Earth his pantry, his purpose is to fulfil himself, grateful
for the gift that he is
a tiny wanderer sage, with no words, legless shuffles
across the green sea
with closest affinity between his feelers and the world, as if
for him ,just
looking and listening
is the real work, leaving a thin trail of broken white
as evidence of his presence.
At bed time
he shrinks
snug and tight
alone inside his spiral portable home
without the slightest tremor,
silence is what he is, shellful, his life locked within,
his passion enthralled, powerful and free
now chained
he sleeps
in possession of happiness and peace of mind.
It is this essence that he leaves as the quiet guide
to mankind
to navigate the unknown.

Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
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