By the sweat of his brow

We look at the cane bread basket
Gathering a dark night in its love,
With assortment of many breads
For the starved and not so starved.

Night has its breads before mouths
Deep aroma roasts with vegetables
That spring from the empty spaces
Of cornfields and bodies in sweat.

Night is empty space in cornfields
Enveloping in its growing darkness
Bodies that made breads from sun,
Left with no bread, only the sweat .

(In the sweat of thy brow thou shalt eat their bread till thou returnst to the ground,for out of it thou wast taken and unto it shalt thou return- Genesis)

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