The Dollops of puerile dalliance

Soon topple by life’s deceit.

They stew until decrepit,

Oblique to the bleak

Transient tastes of Destruction-

It Needles and Spoons the Weak.

The Sophic scents scintillate those

Souls searing in their innocence,

Sizzling inside the casserole-

Cumbrous coffins inside creation

Where the Joy of Life was sapped

Slapped, vaporized and forgotten.

Overlooked and overcooked-

They evaporate into the air

Where the Master Chef

Collects the remnants

To modify and make tasteful

Transforming a spirit into

the morsels of a new recipe.