By: Daniel Colbert

In the beginning, word went round:
“There’s something stirring up from the ground.”
The angels made a happy sound.
It was good.

There’s a tree with fruit that opens your eyes;
Suddenly, now, there’s truth and lies.
It’s gonna be some kind of ride.
Hold on tight.

Maybe some math will make it clear:
Dividing by two equals fear; and
Noticing endings everywhere
May give a fright.

Contemplating curse or gift:
The wheat and chaff we always sift;
Good and bad – that demonic rift;
It’s our inheritance.

Original sin – it’s what you’ve been fed, but
There’s nothing like sight to mess with your head.
Now it’s time to go to bed.
Goodnight.

The stories we tell are always prone
To ruinous games of telephone;
But I’ve got a mind of my own, so
I’ll see ya!