The symbol of the brahma brings milk to the hard working,
Amidst the toil of farming the snow comes a tumbling.
Still we must eat, and four stomachs makes grass fling
quickly into compost. There's a constant grumbling
within the heart of those who need their own cash.
And so here we are together, wanting to make steem last.

A laugh from a friend is worth more than an upvote,
so we stick together til the end, then we raise goats.
Churning the milk into butter is like condensing our
thoughts into their purest form. High in the tower

of the long thought cryptosphere, we call essence
to come forward and bless us with luminescence.

Hive account@lonestarpoet