Lying in this quiet bed with my eyes growing dim and low,
The weight of Adam has struck me with its final blow.
From the fall of the First to our conception day,
We were dealt a heavy load of that ancient clay.
Exhausted from bearing the mark of defiance,
The suffocating guilt and severed alliance.
Questioning our downfall in the garden lost,
How could he sell us for forbidden fruit of immense cost?
This weight of Adam, the load, the strain,
Thousands of years of injustice and human pain.
I’m growing cold as my final moments creep,
I’m pulled deeper towards my final sleep.
Now my dust can return to the ground,
For my Creator knows me and soon I’ll be found.