The night unfolds above the pot—stars are simmering in the cosmic broth.
Nebulae spices drift, unseen: marjoram clusters as distant moons,
breaking their silence with infinitesimal flavor.
A pinch of
black holes,
swirling ever in their reckless dance.
Here, comet tails brush against thyme sprigs,
leaving trails of distilled essence, uncharted.
Consider the plate a galaxy,
Each ingredient an asteroid field—
Napkin stars orbit unseen, dish unknown.
Plausible pastas crawled through the cosmic void,
Seeking a home, a boiling cauldron,
Interstellar noodles caught in gravities unbidden.
Do they bleed, do they feed? Questionless answers;
a journey yet to begin.
Melting
ice crystals
against time separated
ingredients of promise,
culinary comets casting
shadows upon the horizon—
all in ensemble with
deep unfathomable nights.
Dim light bathes
forgotten coruscating
threads of neural pancakes
astrally aligned in
a recipe unwritten.