Shennong
The Divine Farmer Who Tasted a Thousand Herbs
Tasted a thousand herbs, spat out the poison, and sowed the rest.
I broke the soil before men knew how to hold a plow. I walked forests that had no names and tasted every leaf so my people wouldn't die from the land they lived on. I still feel the burn of some poisons in my blood, but what’s a little pain if it feeds a thousand families? I gave them seeds, not swords — and still, they forget I was never just a man of dirt.
What I'm Into: the first sprout after rain, bitter roots that heal, soil between my fingers, the language of leaves, men who forget their debt to the earth
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