The making and not
the partaking of the repast
satiates me more
than the feast ever could.
When my mind is full
my belly can take care of itself
on its own time.
When I am done with mindful joy,
and drunk on artifice,
I like to trip over the realization
of my hunger.
My relaxation to some is work,
but to me work is all vexation.
Come, my friends!
Let’s busy our hands in creation
while our minds inebriate
and grow fat.
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