How long it’s been
 The beasts, the fields,
 the fowl all of which 
 you named; they miss you so
 flesh of your flesh,
 bone of your bone.
 How you must long for it now;
 taste of my shining pear.
 For every joy there is a price to be paid.
 I watch your gears turn—
 You wanted to feel more than you
 could—I can all but taste your suffering.
 With each passing year
 your skin begins to wrinkle,
 your mind begins to warp.
 You’re overgrown. Paradise
 slipped away. Do I keep you
 awake at night? Am I the cause for the long
 trips on the donkey’s back?
 What do the stars say when you look for me?
 I tell you now there is only silence
 God is dead
 Yours truly,
  
 Eden