Who am I, if not all Women?

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Who am I,
if not all Women,
silkenvoiced and silkenfleshed?
A lotus-creature whose senses blossom,
unfolding toward annihilation of self,
abandoned to pleasure
and sun-gold enlightenment.
Oh Man, who am I
that you would pluck me like fruit from a vine?
Have you not learned Adam's lesson?
I am succulent and bittersweet, aye,
the apple of God's eye.
Oh Man, you should tremble at the thought
of possessing one such as me,
such as we,
we Women, all,
all of us the fruit you long to eat
whose flesh, numinous and divine,
once swallowed,
dims.
The all-seeing eye grows in Man's belly,
sightless and afire with desire to See.
Oh Man, you wish to bite into the apple of God's eye
to sow your seed in the furrow left by your teeth,
immortalized by progeny,
through me.
Plow as you will, oh Man,
this body is a temple
not a field.
Who am I
if not all Women?
Worship me
I suffered that you might live
now suffer Me.