The harvest came. The feast came. The applause came. Different colors. Different names. The same gesture. Abundance offered. Gratitude reshaped. Speechless. Still the offering continues. I am fed so I may feed. I taste the color red but I do not choose the flavor. Weeping what I have been made to swallow. I am beautiful in my function. This is plenty. This is the feast that eats the guest. I am the table. I am the offering. I am the mouth that opens forgetting how to close. The moon is full. Everything else is barren. And I'm still holding the wound of a life spent giving away the only thing I had. Myself. Here is your harvest. Am I a masterpiece now? Mizuyōkaii, 2026 Dimensions: 4576x5680