Ode to Omelet

Ode to Omelet 

         

Three eggs 

Plain white

Sit anxiously 

Awaiting the change

From mundane white ovals

To something more.

Like a blazing phoenix rises from the ashes

Golden wings searing the sky

So the omelet is born.

In a sea of bubbling oil

A turbulent ocean of glittering butter

Jeweled with peppers of bright green, orange, and red

Simmering gently 

On the Great

Frying Pan.

When the time is right

The omelet leaves

Its searing birthplace

For cooler climes.

The frosty touch of the plate 

Is grudgingly accepted by the omelet

Who longs already for the warmth of the Pan.

Despite its new home

The radiance of the omelet cannot be dimmed.

Like a golden sunbeam 

The omelet burns bright for all to see

Illuminating the darkness

Bringing truth to the ignorant.

At last the omelet arrives

Bathing all who behold

In a warm, radiant light.

From the first bite

To the last

The omelet bestows Enlightenment 

On the grateful epicurean.

Like the wise Prometheus

The omelet delivers the secrets of divinity

Stolen from the realm of Gods

To the mouth of man

Nourishing him with nectar and ambrosia.

But alas

Like all good things

The omelet must end.

The last bite is eaten

The last morsel chewed

The plate is forsaken

But none shall forget

The golden glorious Omelet

The phoenix of breakfast

The Prometheus of food.