The fresh egg does not cease To fulfill itself or rot- It goes nowhere but Forward or straight down.   It is in the nature of change To respond to its surroundings- By the act of advancing Or plunging.   In the warmth of the hatching The egg ripens into a chick; Or it breaks in a fall Or succumbs to spoilage.   It thrives in the sizzling pan Or the simmering kettle- Fried or boiled for one Just through with his sleep.   And so for anyone who insists That appearances decide what comes Of the process of change, I'll fry a piece of rock-   Sunny-side up!