Enslaved unto your fold, each minute,
Inseparable, rooting deep passion.
Rising with the dawn to water thy oxen,
To work in your fields,by the sweat of brow
to grow thy grains with joy and ecstasy
to sacrifice my actions,all along
as if they were your own and their fruits
Master, after this day’s work i plead
To quench my thirst ,tilt thy pitcher
For i’ve walked past ages Ignorant of your nature
Waiting at your door, with cupped hands...
Expectant to see in your face , a mark of satisfaction.
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