O mother
of all entities,
thou art but pure desire.

I feast my eyes
on this big vermilion dot
on this plate of pickled mangoes

I reach out
My finger tip stretches forward
To touch that dot.
What moves my finger upwards?
What makes me open my mouth?
Why is there that gush of water?
What is that which thrusts my tongue tip out
In expectation of an ******?

That moment
tantalisingly eternal
tantalisingly fleeting.
that touch
of the fingertip
on a million buds.
that one moment, o mother
is when I know
satiation and desire
are both you.

I bow to that you, o mother!