Sometimes like a turtle I admit
that I retreat into mySelf.
There I might carefully peer out
for a moment before a serious
consequence frightens me removed.
Onlookers devise this an excuse.
This is the subjective recognition
that of all creatures' odd recreation
of entreating and retreating with precision
mine alone can be bested by isolation. . . .
Nonsense. My physical apparatus reconstructs
a need that projects me forward into mud and muck.
Renewing my searching for other like creatures
starts me over in subtleties of misadventures.
When this will ever arrive at a conclusion
opens in my mind's eye as an illusion.
Yet some internal need will likely press me toward
another predicament of pretending to be forward.
Our ability to reach unity in diversity will be the beauty and test of our civilization.