With an act of love
only he could muster,
with a strike so swift
that all pain denied...

Ablaze with sin,
Eden burns still,
with flames so bright
that the stars look dim.

With his crime still fresh,
I came to in this flesh
in resemblance to God,
and cursed to withstand His stream of thoughts.

Thoughts which now pour
through an open wound
agape at my nape.

That most precious of nectars
pooling over the soil
of the beautiful garden
I once called home.

May it mix with the dew,
and bring forth life anew,
May it nurture the roots,
when my body lies moot.

...was his gift in the end,
to shorten my days,
to bar my ears
and shut my eyes
to the impending doom
and coming cries.