When I wake up in the morning
to the beauty of the sunrise
pink and gold he shines upon us
giving life and light to all
Then I go down to the valley
where the river flows unending
like a gift from the blue heavens
living waters for us all
It is there I meet my dearest
grazing cows in the green pasture
yes my cows and their small calfies
like a mother to us all
For my cows they feed the nation
with their milk so pure and creamy
butter, yoghurt, curds and whey too
what a mother she is to me
And my mother I respect her
never would I harm one eyelash
or one hair upon her body
from her nose down to her tail
So I ask you dearest children
love your mothers, treat them kindly
Their blood like yours, is not for spilling
they are your own family
(I wrote this poem a few years ago, but never published it. It's in an older style to my current poetry, but I wanted to add it to the legacy, for posterity. The subject matter is still as crucial to me as ever, being a firm believer in compassion for all living entities, especially the helpless, as well as a firm believer in "ahimsa" or non-violence, as propounded by the Buddha and the Bhagavad Gita. Ahimsa is an obvious symptom of a civilized and educated and mature philosophical understanding of our self as well as reality, and anything less suggests a degradation in consciousness due to lack of clarity, insight, education and love.)