Pen song

The phoenix burns, then flies anew, A tale too bright to quite be true. It lives in flames, then fades from sight— A fleeting spark, a myth in flight. But penguins walk where cold winds bite, They do not blaze, but still f***t night. Through storm and ice, they stand, they stay, No need for fire to find their way.  No fantasy, no wings of flame, Yet every heart should know their name. For in the dark, they choose to cope— True strength is found in faith and hope