A way

The snake is my basest instinct,

The fruit, my easiest resort.

A thing unlearned, not understood,

My impulses desire that enigma.

So I die a thousand deaths; I’ve tasted the forbidden fruit, without seeing where it roots.

When will freedom come?

The dog is my cobbled stone,

The journey, the burden, the joy and hope.

Labor and learning, failing, retrying,

Never relenting, doing not venting,

Playing and feeding, needing and leading,

So I live so many lives that my heart fills all wanting, all desire.

Approaching my pyre.

The lotus is my truest self,

Its petals, my loyalest traits.

Because it unfurls so many eyes open,

To and from so many directions.

Giving me vision to see all happenings,

In the fruit and the root.

The stem, the water in its veins. The breathing of its cells,

And the majestic green, as it turns its head to greet the morning sun.

To see freedom come.

I reach up at heaven,

But the bathing light warms me so,

Begging me to stay.

But why?

Freedom comes for all bodies one day.

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