As dawn breaks over the horizon so does the egg. Sizzling with excitement like a caterpillar in the cocoon of a frying pan about to take a new form. Released from its oppressive shell the egg is now free, no longer standing in a row among it’s less fortunate brothers in the fridge. The egg has escaped the tedium of its cold confining cardboard house and burst its shell in a glorious flash revealing the sun yellow orb within.
What will it become? An omelet, lovingly wrapped around its fellow foodstuffs like a fluffy down blanket? Perhaps as a metaphor, a bright round golden ball resting on a white cloud, or over easy, as the sun glinting through overcast skies. Maybe it will show its wild side and scramble around the pan in a riot of random shapes and sizes, or perhaps it’s modest side, hidden in the mix but holding up the structure while the muffin takes all the credit. Or perhaps after getting itself into hot water it will be violently decapitated and repeatedly impaled by spears of toast, like some martyr who’s sacrifice is necessary to someone’s morning ritual.
Once the egg, that life seed of the mammalian species is freed from its confines, its potential is only limited by imagination.