by Alex Moskios
Look at the snake with the thousand eyes,
Twisting and turning as it lights the way;
Look how it slithers and whines and groans,
Here contracting, expanding there,
Always searching, forever moving.
A million hearts in its innards it carries,
A million smiles and a million desires,
A motley assemblage clad in lucid attires,
Back and forth it carries them on its steely tires,
Those that are its masters and yet its slaves.
Look how happy the new born child sleeps,
As the snake carries it for its first ride home,
While a hundred yards behind a young girl weeps
For her lover who just left, and she now feels alone,
And the music from the snake's innards plays on.
How black and somber the snake rounds a corner
As it carries a great to his final resting place!
Look how it groans hurling clouds of smoke
As the wealth of man on its back it carries,
Hissing trumpet sounds as it's heading home.
Forceful now and angry lifts above the ground
As it tries to obey a youngster's thoughtless ways
Breaking steel and bones as it touches down.
But the snake keeps always rolling, always moving on;
Rolling, rolling, rolling; moving on and on and on.