I am empty. Swollen and cold. The power of my wake is frightening. My voice is only silenced in death and often heard miles beyond my physical presence. Many times I am mild, but your attention of me should never falter, as I am uncertain. So much hides beneath my endless matter, but I take no part in seeking for artifacts. I hold stories and rumors, legends and tales. In the still of the night you will fear me.
But at a moment, when I am weakened, and you dare trespass upon my nakedness, beware! Oh beware! For I am only away to gather my strength. And at the time I am ready, nothing subdues my army. You can see the rippling white stallions leading my troops of blue to beat upon your shores.

I can hear the coins jangling in my pocket as the spring in my step forces the small change from it’s lifeless rest in the lint filled denim pocket into flight and freedom. They sing a melody known around the world. To some, a cheery sound, while others the song of something once possessed.

The same song with many meanings. As I round the corner, my feet slow and I quickly silence the music emiting from my happy pocket by placing my hand on my leg. He looked at me and I saw the tired, longing look in his eyes. The same I had seen in many others and pushed by after dropping my eyes. But then stopped. This time it felt genuine, I turned and emptied my pocket into his outstreched hand. He mumbled his gratitude, something incoherent to me, but I managed a small smile. He too would soon hear the song that had accompanied me throughout the day. And as I walked away I heard the jangle as he flipped them over in his hand. After all, it’s all about the small change.