How can a man learn to love,
When the forbidden fruit lies on the other lawn?
The sky fills the world,
Or the world fills the sky, to this man.
Desert to snow,
Snow to snow,
How can one learn to love,
If the art of loving is shrouded in ice.
Summer is rhubarb and heatstroke,
Winter is grey and slush.
But what is Spring?
What is Fall?
They don't exist to this man,
As there are two polar seasons,
Each as unattractive as the other.
An old man can survive this destructive cycle.
He knows nothing past his backyard.
But this original man,
Has tasted the forbidden fruit,
And he wants more.
A house is just a prison to him,
And life is the chain around his ankle.
Maybe one day,
His arms will transform into wings,
And he will soar out of the frozen cage.
But not today.
Life is just an hourglass,
And every second here is a second wasted.
What if he loses sight of the fruit,
And this is how he dies?
In this Hell,
He cannot escape?
The world is large,
And immense with thousands of cultures,
Foods,
Laughs,
Jokes,
Horrors,
Languages,
and Love.
Love.
Love.
Let this man not taste the forbidden fruit,
But let him poison himself with it,
As a happy death,
Is cleaner than a miserable life.
