It is a wonder, brief, ephemeral
A shadow passing once beyond the scope of sight
A glimpse, a smile, perhaps a thought that reaches -
something, never coming to fruition, falling idly -
Yet in its fall a deadly grace, a beauty...
Accented by shadowed wanderings, by voices whispering, calling -
I reply, and know my words lose meaning with each moment.
Within the ripened skin of this one fruit that fell
(Perhaps the tree of knowledge had once housed its twin)
A smile will flicker, briefly, as that shade - the shadowed passing -
Nothing idle remains of this new fall! Is it a fall? Nay -
For its nature, in all its buoyant vibrancy unleashed,
The wildest dance, a tune unnoticed, striving, calling- a cry!
Nay, tis a whisper, brought upon
A quiet evening, watching wind's soft wanderings
Caress the subtle twilight of the branch
Upon which but a simple fruit, unnoticed, hangs...
That shadow flickers cross its surface...
That smile reflects from glossy passion's rise
And then the quiet fall ensues... When nature's coolest fruit
Meets warmth, and flesh, and love
You give the fruit to me. Yet it shall house no sin...
For on its branch, it did retain its sin, its luster, mystery,
Its beauty tragic. The memory of whispers in the darkest night
But in your hand, the warmth will banish madness...
But in your gift, I find my peace, and see
The shadows that once played upon dissolve
I understand.

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Scarlatan, in the year 306 AF.