A Boon Sugar Cane

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What grows on its own within my breast
that in truth’s alone real-
the quintessence of sweetness,
of which man has its human counterpart
that could however be sapped bitter
by desire. we are both caged alike
in eternal bounds
albeit he in the vastness
of space stern decree and I
in the shutness of cane -case,
whence we each draw in each movement
of the sphere
a moment of the Great sweetness
of which the least bees buzz
as God’s greatness in the small
circumambulating
my site of manifestation
not as stale ritual of desire
but primal harmony, drawn by thirst
of sweetness, abundant
in me.

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