If the base state of being
is to be
a lumbering cow
dumb and docile
to any outstretched hand
full of the golden kernal
then she
is the self-reliant spirit
lean and wild
reared off a land
that instead
seeks nothing for its gifts
past this
the worthy counterpart
fat on compassion
and companionship.
Is she a god?
She is the scent
of coconut
milk and honey
henbane baby
moon flower vine;
I pray
she would reach me
take me out of this Samsara harvester
and teach me the proper way to die:
with eyes
wide open.

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