Genesis

borne,

by Eden's hiatus

o the fruits we've plucked

tasted in creator's afflatus 

smudged underneath sin's eyelids 

weighed upon by chained misleads

pray, to seize the fleeing fear 

fear that enroots seizures. 

crawling, 

if we were to swing our breaths

from stemming cradles to ripe deathbeds

and the wuthering within

our hearts shall beat best 

in the unrest we've dwelled

as nails share with the cuticle

a breath and a death. 

walking,

while we savour and savour

the sweet wine of stars

which swirls, flavoured silver blood

yet a generous drop sticks unto mortals

from the abundance of Neptune 

the saviour's salted kiss

is but, not persuasion

merely, an unsound chortle.

death, 

my friend, brings you, on knees

all the men who have thus said 

bow and kneel on theirs

before the nucleus of life 

this unknown and widely known 

whose power is exploited 

in everything but mere name. 

redemption,

as it satiates taste buds of maw

pervading through all the whiffs

like drowning in the deep deluge 

of little water that may wash 

the deeds away, not in dense stains 

seeking green groves leading 

to a beetroot shaded maze.  

born,

the red bite of the fruit on lips

has been seeded ages ago

forbidden the good and the evil

ignorance, the sentinel

of where our hands sow

in the vast lush garden. 

but so it happens

in the era and epoch of gods

that blood of the next of kins

embellishes naked and porous skins.