Sourdough

The muse has fled, the lights are red, you're swinging by a thread from baking bread to barking mad and back to baking bread. Will higher highs bring lower lows, will needles turn to barbs? What's in the carbs one never knows, except of course the carbs. Your eyes are red, your nose is brown and to escape the pain you let it rise, then punch it down and let it rise again. Oh, damn this never ending beat, this ringing in the ears: preheat, preheat, preheat, preheat and wipe away the tears. No matter what and how you tweak, the end is still the same: the crumb is weak, the crust is meek, the whole shebang is lame. Where east meets west, there west meets east - forget the south and north, it is the quest for better yeast (and better life, of course.) Be ready to repeat until and then avoid unless; your rusty will is iron, still - so keep at it. God bless.