Stew Poem by John Prophet

Bubbling broth.
Raw.
Filled raw.
Emotional with
instinct.
Animal instinct.
Spiced with
attitude,
arrogance.
Writhing,
bubbling,
coalescing,
searching for
equilibrium.
Steaming with
self importance.
Thrashing through
time and
space.
Seeking advantage,
advantage
at all cost.
Humanity,
animal,
fighting like
animals.
Meanest
of them
all.
Big fish
tiny pond.
Yet,
somehow
moving.
Moving forward,
learning, building,
creating.
New ingredients
being added.
Always
new ingredients.
Nearly finished.
How will
it turn out,
taste?
Who's
to say.
Time
will tell!