I was a turtle on his back, rocking to my freedom. Set loose in a land of haste, in a world turned to badlands. I crawled to the edge of time and scored the beat of my heart to the tune of the clock. Gears shifting. Arms winding. Patience thinning. I saw myself in every one like me, but they saw no resemblance. They saw only difference. The walls around me changed with the seasons, but my temperature didn’t waver. Instead, I grew into the warmth for twelve months out of the year and was comfortable. But comfort wore like a baggy tee shirt, and I was swimming in ignorance and complacency. When I began to feel the cold, I tied the string of a balloon around my neck and lifted off ground. I floated away as the walls collapsed, no longer having a reason to stand firm. Now I weave in and out of the measure of my symphony, and replay my youth to remind me that no matter how far into the future I make it, it’s never far off behind.