The turtle makes his life an aimless choice
if once, reset upon a journey dark
he’s lost his vision and his inner voice
to turn him from his home within his park.
He’s wandered from his joyful habitat.
He’s lost, and inched, somehow, the wrong, wrong way
and home cannot be found from where he’s at.
Oh, pitiful his journey from that day.
So all of us must journey, find our way;
like turtle, turned, and looking for some source
to guide us back to places whence we came
to home and heart familiar with our course.
An old and simple chart: love has its say
unless we wander, withering away.