The snail's paradox
is to be homeless
with a home on his back.
I used to feel for him
until I became as a snail
and came to know
that unaccountability
leaves me to my own devices,
creates convenience,
simplifies with ease
came to know how inns are often cozy
with the roar of a fire
how beds not mine
can be more comfortable
than a place
I might be tempted
to call "home"
when home wishes me gone
or intransient
came to know
that the longer you stay
the faster freedom leaks away
ties you tight to rhyme
with little benefit

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Glacian, in the year 299 AF.