A Master Of All You Desire

I made beautiful things
and they fell apart
like so much overcooked food,
crumbling into fibers and mush
as I set them before you;

so I made harder, uglier things
and they curdled into leather
and hard wood, making them
impossible to chew,
and you turned away.

Then I made an effort to balance
the beauty and the ugly
and couldn’t get it right.
You looked at me perplexed
and said, “It’s…interesting…”

Now I simply order out
and provide the plates.
You seem happy.  You seem
to like this better.  It strikes me
that I’m unnecessary now

and that nourishment for you
is impersonal, unrelated
to me and my attempts
to be a master of all you desire.
I am trying to consider this a blessing.