The aroma of freshly baked cake fills the evening air
The crispy smell of caramel as it forms the crust!
The rising dough! The mystical flavors!
The softness! The sweetness!
The tantalizing taste!
Oh! How dainty is my cake!
How dainty is the cake of my very own making!
As the softness melts in my mouth and the ecstasy overflows
As the wonderful taste seeps in; and invokes a feeling of
pride
I pause a moment, and gently wonder
Did I strive in the vast fields of wheat, where once mighty
forests stood?
Did I pollinate the vanilla flowers; and harvest its sapid pods
Did I churn the creamy butter, from the deprived milk of
some miserable calf?
Did I lay the eggs, of those unborn chicks that ended up in
the bowl?
Did I make the motherly oven! Did I mastermind the canonical recipe?
Yet, having done none of these; I proudly call it my cake!
What of mine did I bake; to take all this credit?
Except for time and intention, what more did I contribute?
Now as the exalted taste
of cake merges with my new found insight
Humility is born and pride melts away; as I finally see , the
whole universe, hidden within this cake!
