You are a beach,
Woman,
For a time,
To someone else,
Warm and calm.
Paradise.
Your first home was this beach,
Nestled within your mother's innards,
Cradled there by
Love and biology.
Someday,
You will be a paradise
To someone else.
You will pull them from the nothing And place them at your core.
Again,
Someone will be exiled from paradise,
From that warm water
Of the beach,
And they will never return.
Ironic,
Isn't it, that people think
we are born to
Strive towards paradise,
When really we begin there?
Sad,
That when we are expelled,
Covered in a woman's blood,
Screaming at the raw light and the fanged cold and the discordant sound,
We can never return.
Eve's last trick.
Or her curse.
To deliver souls from Paradise,
again and again.
Morbid,
That we are
Pushed forth painfully
Into a world of more pain,
Screaming our protest.
...And the beach from which you came...Withers away...Mingles with ashes or dirt...Slips away with time...
And you,
Woman,
Will do the same.
A cyclical Fall.
