Speak the language of food

What is the lesson.

What is there to learn.

When the light breaks through

and you feel the sun burn.

There’s a million of me

and I’m just like you.

And we all want the thing

 we were born to do.

To choose and be chosen.

To speak our truth.

Right here, right now

Isn’t that the proof.

Mine is a language.

A taste of the earth.

The song that rises

a whispering flirt.

In this arena,

on this stage.

A sharp dissection

turns the page.

This is where I

meet the blade.

The flames that scars.

The heat that bakes.

Mine is a journey.

Sunken, then drenched,

 then crushed by desire

to meet and make friends.

You don’t know this,

not just yet.

We are a coir

when skillfully paired.

See the conductor

a magician of sorts,

Knows how to hear

our every thought.

The hands are a concert

that execute the plan,

without hesitation

as only a master can.

Hear our dialogue;

It’s a thing that evolves,

the language of taste

around which magic revolves.

It’s alchemy at first.

But, soon you will learn

to trust your heart

and hear the words: 

I was born to talk to you.

I was meant for this.

Somehow you heard my audition

to be part of this dish.

This is the thing.

I’m so glad that you’ll learn,

to listen as well as you’ll speak

when it’s your turn.