Brutus, the Armored Stoic

The axe bites the trunk

Of the cherry-blossom tree;

The snail moves, serene.

~ Baishatsu [Englished by Phillip Whidden

This snail inside its moving home in rain

Or sunlight crawls as calm as cherry blooms.

S(h)e never broods on jealous brother Cain.

S(h)e has no thought of unimagined dooms.

Inside the shell-protected critter where

S(h)e creeps, s(h)e slithers, never minding time,

Nor Christ’s e.t..e…r….n….i…..t……y……. .  S(h)e’s not aware

Of axes or philosophy—or slime

S(h)e leaves behind.  S(h)e drags along one curled

Abode although s(h)e doesn’t dimly know

Just why.  S(h)e doesn’t know of angels hurled

From heaven. S(h)e is very, very slow.

  S(h)e’s far too much like us, insurance paid

    For—and for what?  The snail is not afraid.