The turtle in his shell is not afraid.
Although he seems to hide and shrink from sight,
his mind is open wide. This little monk
in solitary cell, his consciousness
a spacious citadel, would never say
that he had been denied anything, but
rather, the world inside is one, he finds,
that shines, expands and swells—no longer slow
he runs like a gazelle, and over countless
rich kingdoms he presides, while, silently,
he sits at his bedside, until his breath
resumes, and breaks the spell. He rises now,
and stretches, opens shining eyes and then—
comes forth, renewed, to greet the world again.