Eden is Always Lost

Eden is always lost;
  men are always falling from grace.
A cross must always be borne 
  by the better man,
    all for the sins of the lesser.
The prophet must always cry,
  "Thus saith" to deaf ears
    that never will hear.

Words so many the ancient writ hold;
  I look and see, it's made for me,
    and I am made of it.
I cannot hide from this presence;
  one cannot erase the Deity's shadow,
    cast by the subtle history.
Little moments day by day,
  and long passages of life,
    manufactured and felt of old.

My very breath is structured
  and the blueprint of my days,
by feelings and thoughts and whispers
  none of which I have made.

I stand in the midst of mountains
  in the mist of time gone by,
and I am befuddled by all of it - 
  my origins none can tell.

Featured image: ‘Jerusalem: the Emanation of the Giant Albion,’ by William Blake, image in the public domain.

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