An Egg Yolk

Ah, the egg. Loved and hated by many. Some people refuse to even eat the yolk of an egg, saying that it's grotesque and foul tasting. Others, like me, will embrace the yolk, eating it whole or savoring it slowly. The hard boiled yolk is, I admit, a bit hard to swallow. I need some sort of drink with it to wash it down, but I enjoy the texture and flavor. Some might think this is strange, but I never put salt or pepper on my hard boiled eggs. I feel that it takes away from the taste. But the greatest egg dish of all is not the hard boiled egg, but the poached egg. It is a regal dish, often having its own cup, a throne if you will. Depending on mood, I may eat it on toast or plain. Here is the fun part. One must poke a hole in it, and golden liquid will seep out. Then they must take a bite or gobble it at once. The latter ensures them getting the most yolk, but the former allows the eater to contemplate the egg, to understand its true meaning. When I am eating an egg like this, I feel that I have reached a temporary euphoria. The only thing that can get me down is the idea that it will be gone soon. The poached egg is a perfect dish. There is no way to make it better.