Sometimes the end
is the sweetest beginning
A piercing scream
urgently drawing
things to a close
and in the next instance
frantic footsteps
hurried rushing
a wall of heat
but just beyond
something emerges
from deep inside
the cavern
Heat spills out
and with it
smells emerge
wafting
spinning
winding
and weaving
into the room
It intoxicates you
draws you close
compels you to reach
to grasp
to pull
until it emerges
An illusion
released
Ideas solidified
like the ingredients
combined
mixed
folded
and baked
just long enough
to raise a souffle
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