“What is the purpose of life? Why do we have to go through this? I eat, work and sleep. That’s all there is to my life. If it’s all about reaching the end, why not just get done with it?”
The sense of danger makes a snail
cave inside its safety shell.
The danger that arrives is but
a hasty squirrel’s dropped nut.
The tiny one fears and peeks out,
braving the immense world of risk;
What’s it going to do next?
Move boulders or finish boundaries?
It’ll just walk on to reach and find
a leaf to munch for its loved-snails.
Walk to reach its home and share
the day’s adventures, to be glad.
To live and make the difference
to a cat’rpillar which hears and finds
the drive to walk ahead and find
its own abode of shelter and smile.
Because we are meant to enjoy food, the dreams and experience each activity that comes across our way. That is the end. There is an end to each thing. It has to, to begin with the next. These are things we can actively undertake. If we were to think of the end of the life or beyond, I am pretty sure we’d have been made more aware of them. If the snail was to move boulders, it’d not be a snail but an elephant. If the elephant was to stay safe in a shell, it’d have had one.
The poem was written for someone who asked the questions posed before. The poem reached enough to bring a smile. The snail’s mission is successful.
A poem by about.me/namasvee
A Chief Editor of about.me/tsoimagazine
Photography by about.me/n.vaidyanathan