Fountains Held
Softly spoken
Gently broken
Tokens of intelligence
Denied their grace
And forced to face
The pace of shrinking space
And time
As rockets pass
The gentle observation
Of simplicity

Stop!
Begin the blend of crass
Technology and let
Me brace for solemn history
As species groan
Beneath the weight
And hate
Of vicious chemistry

The fountain bleeds
With seeds
Of focused dreams
And streams
Of natural ministry

It feeds
It needs
It comes with mastery
But we the beast
Have had our feast
And flinch within the mystery

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr