East Of Eden

East of Eden

        Eden was the womb about me
        where I alone was dear,
        the tree of life, unguarded, hung,
        no seeing serpent circled near.

        Paradise, the waters round me,
        the tree of life stood strong,
        no forked tongue nor apple offered
        in tempting taste of right or wrong.

        Unashamed, I hid from nothing,
        the tree of life was mine,
        and Eden's river flowed for me,
        washed my eyes with waves divine.

        Innocence my naked pleasure,
        the tree of life was warm,
        its choiceless juices dripped for me,
        all unbeguiled I was unborn.

        The hissing urged my eyes to open,
        the blood-red river swelled,
        its waters burst in cursed contraction,
        in labouring flood I fell;

        Birth, the pushing from the garden,
        light, the death of innocence,
        knowledge sowed the seeds of sorrow,
        the swollen apple gorged with sense.

        while east of Eden swirls the sword,
        the flame-kept tree stands true,
        I hear the voice within the garden
        crying, "Baby, where are you?".