The Cristmas Ode To a Tanned Sprout

Even if you are the tanned sprout tightly packed in pretty cane filled with olive oil you could not stop to dream about ocean, lolled by such hopes and illusions seemed groundless absolutely. But while your truth is hard and distorted you will soon unavoidable unpacked and go to the trip to the Christmas table where served with cheese and red wine for the sweet departure to the stomachs of more luckier dreamers and gourmands. I wish you to be eaten by nice lady if it would you relax and nurtured for other form of coexisting in body of whom who devoured us. But if you are the ended atheist white a little, headless sprouty, all of them who caught, cut, prepared, tanned, mailed, sold, baught, presented and ate you will be combined together chewed, crumbled, munched and return to the soil of mother nature. From where you will select, ask and have full right to start more preferable fate and future.