There is this penny that sits at the bottom of the fountain
Penny
It's copper shinning with that of suns embrace of the water
It seems so stationary among the slithering snakes
Man-made, durable, permanent
Everything we hope but cannot accept
Our punishment for this desire will come soon
And the snakes will devour our homes, possessions, and lives
For our cycle of living is not permanent
But theirs is
So what will we do?
The elder have chosen to remain blinded
In hopes that their death will provide excuse for the unchanged future
And maybe they will be able to wipe their hands but dirt will always remain
For as long as one lives
One must act, change, live, fight
To live by seeking death is to have not lived at all
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