Old Fruit

I who walk the earth unscathed
who endures
who nothing malevolent thwarts

I who nothing touches
am touched now
by mortality and brought low by age

eyes that can not see
teeth that can not chew
feet that can not walk
a heart that can not beat without help.

Your turn,
The Reaper says.
But no,
I am the Fruit of that Forbidden Tree
Death can not cast me in its shadow.

I who stood against the storm these many years
its greatest strength and most destructive force
me
the vortex of destruction
I
who even now taunts fate
and dares to trespass reason.

Bite through the skin of Old Fruit,
the meat is sweeter
where it hasn’t yet decayed.

Pick me
eat
that thou mayest know
what is not yours to be known

this is how the story ends.

Expelled from The Garden That Is Love
the punishment is not not knowing
but knowing
and never being allowed to have

and if it is better to have known
than never to have loved at all
it is lonelier as well
and brutal
bitter
merciless

it was only ever ignorance that was bliss.

Exiled from Paradise
I walked the earth unscathed and unrepenting
lo these many years lost in the Desert of Forbidden Knowledge.

My flesh
that guided me
is what wakes me now
and my heart
that sought to mend itself with more flesh still
is tired of evasion.

I was afraid to be less than perfect
so settled for being less than human.

Old Fruit still tantalizes on the Outlawed Tree
but it rots inside

mortal
isolated
lonely beyond relief.

My arrogance was my sanity
I who nothing touched
my defense.

The Reaper stands before me
now
I am disarmed.