Memory Fragments: Probity

Letter Soup For Eldritch Beings

The newspaper floats around in the void, advertising what may we call a soup
Of letters and enigmas; scrambled meanings and the morning's happenings
To whom I owe the favor of this dish? What good knowledge! The scoop!
A good chef of words has come. A brain of many culinary imaginings

Oh how I crave and crave! Word for word, vowels and periods alike!
The question marks are always the tastiest, but so are the exclamations
Twist and shout all you want! Speak to me with your tongue's flavor I so do like!
Speak, question and answer! Let this soup run cold with endless communications

Oh, but please. Do not fret over the details. What ingredients are used are best left secret
Spice me up with mystery! Butter me up in sweet nothings! Then zap me with an acid truth!
Article after article, all I want to see is your column! Unmask me with the eye of an eaglet
Sharp and focused you are. But alas, I may be at the tail end of youth

Regardless, I still want to taste all your concoctions! The many, many succulent options!
What discovery have you made this time? What horror did you unearth before me?
Oh the flavor it must have! A sorrowful heart left in the care of another's plate of adoptions
Steal the soup and be fed. Navigate the broth or drown in the letter's sea

Oh, but before that. Let me sample some of it first. To make sure it is right
Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect relevancy for the world of Scientifics!
What recipe must you have followed! The procedure that only you could write!
What a breach in history! A soup so perfect that it even has eldritch honorifics!

Now that you have made the perfect letter soup, we can all eat and share!
But leave the good stuff just for me, ok? The supple whims of a rich steam
Permeate my face with them and reveal a cloaked heart amidst the vapor's air
Am I not your fellow diner? Was I not the focus of your special soup's theme?

Now that we can both taste it, wasn't the goal of it to make it for me?
To me? By me? From me? Wasn't this soup an effort to talk with me?
Like a little kid with their letter soup. Wasn't your message for me to see?
Letter by letter, didn't you spell out my name in hopes of making me free?

But of course it wasn't. But of course it was not meant to be!
What favor did I expect to gain with a watered-down soup like this?
All the tinkering I made. All the things I added. All in the name of thee
But no true chef stands alone! A kitchen of the eldritch's kiss!

I shall help you with this endeavor! To master the art of soup!
From newspaper games to scientific breakthroughs!
This soup shall have all letters and symbols. Even those of the eldritch group!
Make it again, Matthew. For your daughters and I crave a chef's news