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Perusing the possibilities. Whatcha lookin’ for?
Tan. Brown. Black. Or Bone.
Baked?
A dish.
Until puffed up.
Quite a dish.
When the air is void, out of the careful constructive early or morning creation.
A collapse of all that is innocent.
Is a mish mosh of straw-slurping delections,
So “yummy”.
Truth be told.
The truth is rarely told. (rs)
In the meantime?
Slicing.
Dicing.
Hoping.
Pounding.
Beating.
Swishing.
Flipping.
Will not make it all go away.
Savory or Sweet.
Makes little difference.
Blow a bubble?
Blow a Souffler?
Blow it out your barracks bag.
Even at broiled temps of hot and hottest.🤓😬.
Churning is for amateurs. The ones who don’t know how to get it done. In time. At the right “cost.”
Rub?
Oil?
Add more flour?
Fold neatly?
Nope. Hardly.
Run back.
To the ingredient store for the perfect “vanilla”. To add to the mix and mixture to throw off the most sensitive. Of palates…….Recipe for disaster.
Even the bug-filled pandemic played a part in the recipe of disaster. Closed buildings, for only some and, of course, not others. Those restricted to different streets than they usually travelled day to day, on foot, bare feet often. When the old abandoned roof over their head became abandoned once again and inhabited by the mice. The cats prefer to chase. The pandemic became an epidemic of collapsed soufflés and masks of mass destruction. Taking the air out of “fun”.
The bug guards attempted to throw off even the most intuitive of human tongues. Gibberish babbling mental collapse of being forced “indoors”, 6 feet apart. Or 5. I forget. Mental madness.
Gibberish (bo) gave way to ambiguity.
And. Now we live in the air of the ambiguous nature of the all- inclusive-baloney offering. Fairly and farely certain there is little baloney in a perfectly constructed soufflé.
Just a lot (bo). Of lies, innuendo, and unfinishable promises anxiously await the 11/5 box to gobble up the hopes and dreams of the tomorrow generation.
Important questions were not asked.
Partly.
Because too much was left to the imagination.
Siri. Is not real. Makes little difference who invented the travel plans for every living being who sought the help.
Of the imaginary friend taking them places they did not know or how to get to “on their own.”
There. The devil waits. Waits not only in the pockets of the driver, on the corner, under the via duct, but in the pockets of the glove compartment too.
The devil enters through the pockets. (pf)
Hiding becomes a futile attempt of cat and mouse. Evil does not hide itself. (pf)
Closed-mindedness does….it chains us down along with the scandal du jour of the scandalous soufflé of collapsed dreams and a life figuring out really where to go with “it.”
It is.
A collapsed heart.
A collapsed soul.
Stifling their cries with superficial means and social work to hide the pain.
Rest assured.
Some. See through the devil and his pocketbook game plan.
How?
The eyes seldom hide the story. Enter. A spiffy pair of aviators or ray bans to hide the shame. At least, while carrying the puffed up soufflé to the party, one looks,
Cool.
Power hungry and dominators make us forget. We become stymied in our words. Sometimes our actions. Resentment takes the hand of revenge and they go skipping off into a sunset of their own falsehood.
“Just as long as we get there”, they think. What they really do not know is they are feeding off of one another and ignorance. Not a tasty soufflé at all.
A collapsed plan of hopes and dreams driven by the Siri mapped plan of “do or die.”
By midnight.
Tomorrow becomes the new hurdle.
Suppresses the cry of those in need. (pf) And there are many. Not few. Who chose which and when and who to serve the best of the best?
Who calls the shots?
The missing ingredient is so simple, we often forget the smallest amount can move the largest of mountains.
Prisoners of being hypocritical abound in ways large and small. Get me there, come hell or high water. Taking the fragility of the lacking along for the ride.
Devoid of credibility, scandalizes the most important mountains of hope.(pf)
The little ones.
Who may not have had the chance to decipher between bull crap and bull dozing the lies into a giant heap of the 💩 poop that it really is. Or was.
So. We big ones. We smile at them and tell them it will al be alright, when in fact, we do not know what we do know. It’s been so long…Time is a tide that disobeys and it disobeys me. It never ends. (mw)
Back to the drawing board of faith, poverty, pain, work and the real charity of lifting up a less than neighbor.
We did a humdinger of a job rolling this conceptual wisdom into “plans, policies, and procedures.” Here on the soils of this great land. For the most part, one must believe it was in the good graces of Him. Good intentions.
No child left behind.
Do no harm.
In reality. We all pay the prices for the sins of one another.
But.
Always.
A but.
We are different. Unless we change our viewpoint that we are all created equal under His guise, stead and steadfast love. We miss the most important ingredient of all.
Love.
Hate is what divides the men from the boys, the cats from the dogs, the short form, the taller person, etcetera. There are vast and different ways to battle for what is right.
”Fight. Fight. Fight”.
Remembering we are all vulnerable humans and we owe it to one another to check ourselves before we wreck ourselves.
And. One another.
How?
Love.
It is patient.
It is kind.
It is a clanging symbol of goodness.
The devil sits deep within the pockets of a fraud who says one thing and does, or plans to do another when the ballot box is filled and the mail of intent mailed out.
Then. The one thing that stands between us and one another is
Love.
Strength.
Steadfastness.
And.
Love.
The missing and most simple ingredient.
Look around and not just through the eyes of one another.
Chances are the answer has been hidden in plain sight all along.
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