Tag Archives: adaam and eve

Serpent Venom

The serpent threaded himself through the branches

of The Tree of The Knowledge of Good and Evil,

watching Adam and Eve play and be innocent and in love.

The serpent felt the emptiness in his heart, the blackness there,

and how beautiful Adam and Eve were, without care or shame,

and the blackness gnawed at him, how their beauty made him ugly.

And he knew just what he needed to do. He knew he’d bring them down.

He who slide along the ground, and was hounded by the light of God’s sun,

knew he’d bite the flesh of Adam and Eve, and put the poison in them he couldn’t escape/

Eve walked in the garden, the sun soft on her face, the wind warm on her skin.

Eve filled with love and full with God just right there, everywhere, in everything.

Eve could not have defended herself from the serpent’s darkness, having never known it.

The serpent called to her, in the softest and velvety hiss, called her to the Forbidden Tree.

He told her she and Adam could be like God, be wise and eternal, be more than this.

She resisted, but that’s part of the game, but the serpent and the darkness will wear you down.

And Eve ate of the fruit, and Adam ate too, and then they saw they were naked, and ashamed.

God became very far away, up in the sky and up in the sun, no longer just inside their hearts.

God found them, and condemned them to toil and pain, and the serpent had spread his darkness.

And the serpent sunned himself on a rock, damned but warm in his hate and satisfied resentment.

The poison had taken and they were now hurting and empty like him, hurting in the world of light.

The serpent watched as the cracks began to crow, and hissed as he saw they sometimes filled in.

Adam and Eve sat in their skins, protection given by slaughtered animals, the taking of life.

The sun was still brilliant and angry and red, but it’s wrath made the sky beautiful to them,

as if fell away again, end of day, and the night came to them, that now they knew so very well.

Adam held eve close, and Eve sang a half-remembered song from The Garden, from the wind.

The pain pricked their skins, but skin could still be soothed by an embrace, tears tenderly wiped away.

The Wrath of God still left warmth in the sun and lurid shades of his voice in the sky, as the night fell.

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