We see a Phoenix burn then rise.

We see seasons wilt and bloom.

We drop a penny in the fountain of hope,

And look to the sky with silent expectations,

Searching for a trust that lives within us,

As the sun’s rays bind a desirable promise.

We wished we said,

To the child that sits at a scholar desk, 

That a red pen and a printed certificate, 

Doesn’t equate to self respect or dignity within humanity.

To the man that walks with drooping shoulders and clouded eyes,

Carrying his worth and aspirations within a folder of ink and paper, 

That failure does not define morality, respectability or identity. 

Reality may stutter and splutter,

But a dream is a continuous prospect set to conquer the world.

To the woman living within the golden cage of society’s norms,

Demands and patriarchy – 

A victim of sexual monopoly,

That the key to freedom is etched within the resilience of her soul –

A fierce furnace that smolders restrictions and disadvantages, 

That the world imposes upon her.

A cursed frog shall discover its golden ball.

Life’s slumber will find its awakening kiss.

A glass slipper will find its fit.

As we look to the sky in search of possibilities; 

The left behind pennies at the bottom of the fountain, 

Reflects the stars above,

Conspiring a new beginning.