Where Hasn't Voracious Hunger Farmed? Poem by Mark Heathcote

Where hasn't voracious hunger farmed?
Pulling its weighty harnessed plough,
peasants working, sleeping only,
only when their masters allow.

Only when their landlord agrees
then, they can lay low & swallow
hungry as field mice & bloodthirsty flees
only, finding comfort in the Tao

And hope that they shall, also one day
see & taste their golden harvest
and witness all their tables fully laden
before chaffs are thrashed, rising to dough's incarnate.