We're cooking an eternal soup
Swimming in some magical stew
Twisting in this infernal loop
Sometimes a shot of pepper and spice
Often difficult and very hot
Piquant can rightly suffice
Easy street is a rich man's vice
Rightly sometimes it tastes
Something mighty and healing
But some ingredient or element
Feeling is oft found missing
Whispering sound particles
Echoes into the gradient night
Stooped and wishing to be bathed in sacred light
Leaning forward with chaste and radiant Angels
Kissing the blessed dark as I lose my blessed sight
Touched by rife life with all its mix and haste
Recklessly crouched
Wond'ring how it might taste
Feckless when I die
Kneeling unrehearsed for once
Appealing to the reeling universe
Finally seeing true in that marked and  humble view