a sacred tale in slices

Paroles de « a sacred tale in slices »

They called her The Round, in whispers low,
Where no winds stirred, and time moved slow.
Behind the door, beneath the grime,
She baked in heat beyond all time.
In blackened brick her fire stayed,
No wood was cut, no bill was paid.
Yet still she burned, both soft and bright,
A crusted moon, a holy light.
Each day, old Paolo — pale, precise —
Would knead the dough, then knead it twice.
He spoke no word, he made no sound,
Just shaped her form: so crisp, so round.
One single pie. One sacred slice.
The smell alone could break the ice.
And those who came to taste her flame
Would never, ever leave the same.
She spoke through cheese, through sauce, through steam,
Through basil breath and garlic dream.
She told of love, of loss, of sin,
Of hungers buried deep within.
They chewed in awe, they chewed in peace,
They begged the bite to never cease.
Some wept. Some laughed. One man just spun,
Around and ‘round — till he was done.
They called her The Round, in whispers low,
Where no winds stirred, and time moved slow.
Behind the door, beneath the grime,
She baked in heat beyond all time.
In blackened brick her fire stayed,
No wood was cut, no bill was paid.
Yet still she burned, both soft and bright,
A crusted moon, a holy light.
Each day, old Paolo — pale, precise —
Would knead the dough, then knead it twice.
He spoke no word, he made no sound,
Just shaped her form: so crisp, so round.
One single pie. One sacred slice.
The smell alone could break the ice.
And those who came to taste her flame
Would never, ever leave the same.
She spoke through cheese, through sauce, through steam,
Through basil breath and garlic dream.
She told of love, of loss, of sin,
Of hungers buried deep within.
They chewed in awe, they chewed in peace,
They begged the bite to never cease.
Some wept. Some laughed. One man just spun,
Around and ‘round — till he was done.
She spoke through cheese, through sauce, through steam,
Through basil breath and garlic dream.
She told of love, of loss, of sin,
Of hungers buried deep within.
They chewed in awe, they chewed in peace,
They begged the bite to never cease.
Some wept. Some laughed. One man just spun,
Around and ‘round — till he was done.
The scholars came, with pens and charts,
But science fails where faith departs.
They found no wires, no heat, no coal,
Just whispered heat that filled the soul.
The dough would rise though no one stirred,
A breathing mass that purred and purred.
And still she waits, and still she grows,
Beneath the crust, the fire knows.
They say — in hush, in smoke, in spice —