It was his turn to make the soup
He had all the directions
Now it’s just a matter of timing
All of the ingredients
Warm the pot
Clean the sides
Clean the gut
Cut the ginger
Boil it up
A giant pot for the
Delights of the spirits and
Cleansing of the mind
The opine of the vegetables
Moment to moment
Satisfies our curiosities
Two times over
Big silver pot
Give it all I’ve got
Special greens
Herbs and things
Magical lot of
Spices to bring
Every effort to hold it in place
For when the bell tolls
We have still our souls
And nothing on earths rock
Will matter because the
Security is still in the soup
© GÄ
Poétique 