Chicken on the Precipice

We are the precipice he thought
Fat and happy and without a want
Something tickles the back of his throat

A fullness of the stomach and the mind
Making himself happy just being lost in time

A full pot sets on the stove, always waiting, never poached
The broth shimmering, glittering, a stew without reproach
Just turn the knob and watch, it will boil eventually
Sometimes you have to be the one with a sense of urgency

Thoughts come in pairs, some stronger than others
As the liquid begins to bubble
He lets some dash while others set on the shelf
Into the consciousness he calls self

A simple task to cook when you’re hungry
But he’ll mess up the dish by adding honey
Maybe just another missed opportunity
Perhaps salt would have been more fitting

Take it one line at a time
Golden never was the goal
It was only the dream
A task to be showcased for your peers now unseen

Some are happy in their bliss, or ignorance, or self absorption
Being too busy looking for the next fix, snap, or dramatic confession

Some are happy reading poetry and imaging what could have been
Others watch it play and let time happen
Still others write and try to gain perspective
From the lines they attempt introspection

Write this verse, play the part
Sing the song spoken by the heart