Another Poem?!?

"Steel-Cut"

I am like a god to this oatmeal.
I pour in the cold milk and push it around with my spoon,
Opening up little channels for the milk to reach the hot oatmeal at the bottom,
Trying to preserve rich veins of brown sugar - not mixed too evenly.

Seawater plunging into lava-lined caverns.
Rain hissing on bare primeval landscapes
Not yet eroded to smoothness.

I will it, and it is done.
For mine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever.