i take my property with me says the snail
slow-moving (yes) but packed with sublime thought
the house upon its back some kind of grail
vulnerable to brute boot - and wisdom bought

by barely making it through life's dull crawl
the pace of it denies technology's demand
that speed be safety (that getting there is all)
the snail enjoys being aeon's ampersand

the snail goes round and round and comes out where
it is the king of spirals as life whirls by
the turning earth and snail leave nothing spare
as step by step the future gives the lie

to rushing dreams and blood's inflated wants
it's the crawling turn of life that plays the trumps
the snail's the joke - the spiral wraps the taunts
(the linear hurls) back round itself â€" and dumps

vainglory pride ambition overweened
into the snail's path as fodder to be gnashed
(transmutable to slime) and once more greened
(in time's course) for hope to be re-stashed

as cosmos and the throbbing crumb of dirt
share each other's suits and blindly will
a raw transfiguration to assert
what wasn't is - then this the only skill

as plodding snail and spiralling through space
unite in common pattern (daily blent)
to tie truth down to gastropodic pace
and who goes faster loses what is meant