Blind tasting

I hear and smell the workings of a cook.
A great cook in the kitchen.
The table I sit at does not seem to be prepared by
The hands of the chef that I smell.
This menu seems too dull
Here you only order,
Serve nothing and no one
So I
Wait.
Waiting on waiters waiting on orders dished out

Before me a plain plate
I eat, I chew and swallow
But all seems in vain
On these words, I am never full
I do not see that the chef is good.
I taste and still I am blind
This cannot be what I am smelling
I seek between my teeth but love
I cannot find
I chew long and hard on these dead words
Sent out by death I try and swallow it down
Sipping on this watered-down gospel
I choke on its bones
Why have these heavenly treats
Got the hell cooked into them?

This is not the chef that I smell, cooking
Have I only been blind tasting?
My taste buds hunger to blossom
No longer do I want to sip from a leaking cup
Seek food on empty plates
I know that what I have been smelling
Is a full course meal
Food that fills, overflowing cups, goodness that desires to be tasted.
I know that there is a table with our names on it
All is prepared
I am hungry for an eye-opening, plate of food.
Chef I want to see your goodness

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