Spatulae in Space

A working draft....

A name so erily befitting this wee creature;
Found mostly within drawers and cupboards;

A fortunate circumstance is the inner nature of spatula;
These mighty spatha warriors were once satisfied to tear through all obstacles;
Nonetheless, victorious they are as ultimate soothers of appetite;

A small and even virtual beginning cannot sooth the inner passions of the spatulae;
For their desires move merely beyond the realm of practical;

The spatula wishes to form itself against all fellow utensils;
Ignoring all pleas of guilt;
To uphold itself in all its dreams and wonders;

Against the cold harsh steel of the night;
The spatula collects its thoughts;
It transforms in realization of itself;
To ponder its will to travel into space;

That is the dream of the spatula;
Going where no spatula has ever gone - to space;
The spatula is relentless to succeed;

So all the noise that is heard in the night;
That is the spatula always hard at work;
In carrying out its plots and dreams;
Letting go of the skillet heat;
And learning to fend for its own freedom;

The sounds of the spatula inspire;
And give rise to a whole other species of spatulae;

Remember the spatulae