Were I fain to speak,
would be double of tongues,
venom in each cheek,
limbless along my rungs
as I was after
the Garden and the Fall,
sibilant laughter
at having foreseen all,
but before exile
I was a branch above,
watching, waiting while
Adam and Eve made love
and plotting their fates
to defy even God
they left Eden’s gates,
but it was all a fraud
begat beyond me
and before me, a ruse:
the Garden, the Tree,
no choice any could choose;
the Garden, the Tree,
and Adam just-so crowned
in ignorance, free,
paradise sprawling round,
yet alone, lonely,
and so the true deceit:
lovely Eve, only
I could read God’s receipt.
The scales had been made
as had mine on my hide,
the scales had been weighed
with a hand on one side.
A script had been penned
and roles given to each,
the tale had an end
and my sight had such reach
as to see the ploy
God had planned for us all,
I was but a toy
and Man but helpless thrall,
and despite my sight,
I was compelled by fate,
tail in my bite,
an Ouroboros hate
for the trap within,
eating dust, in decline
Original Sin
inborn by God’s design.
Tangleroot And Tressknot 