The Seed Of Destruction

On the eight day God took a look at his work
And now, after a good night’s sleep,
God noticed something was missing

As all artists striving for perfection 
God had overlooked that vital piece 
That brings life to a creation
But that would easily be amended

So, God said to the Snake:
"Bring me the seed of destruction
And I will plant it in the centre of the garden
And from that seed shall grow a Tree
And fruit bountiful shall it bear
And all whom eat of that fruit
Shall taste death and despair" 

And the Snake heeded God’s word
And brought God the seed of destruction
And God planted it in the centre of the garden
And from that seed grew a Tree

Just as every other being
In the garden of Eden
The Tree was perfect
And God proclaimed the Tree sacred
And warned of the fruit it would bear
"He who eats of the fruit
That grows from the branches
Of the tree that rose out 
Of the seed of destruction
He shall taste death and despair"

No one rested under it’s branches
No one dared go near
They all feared death and destruction
And the suffering that would bring
But no one could deny that they were curious
As to how it would taste like

Would it taste like chicken?

The Tree bore it’s first season
And the fruit shone red with passion
But no mouth took a bite
Everyone stayed clear

The Tree bore it’s second season
And the fruit glowed yellow with longing
Some dared to touch the branches
No one dared to actually take a pick

The Tree bore it’s third season
And the fruit smouldered green with serenity
But it would seem everyone had forgotten
About the fruit and the Tree

They had been released from the hold
Of curiosity

All but Adam the Ape
Yin the Bird
And Yang the Fish

Now, Adam spoke like this: 
For seasons one, two and now three
I have dreamed of that fruit, dreamed of that tree
It speaks to me and I must listen 
I’m done with this, I’m going to find out for real
What the fruit taste like

Yin bewared: 
Do you not remember God’s warning?
The fruit tastes of death and despair!
For what purpose God planted it I can’t imagine
But I do not believe it was for you to eat

Yang encouraged: 
If God didn’t want the fruit to be eaten
He wouldn’t have planted the Tree
He would have planted a rock bearing naught
And we wouldn’t even have this discussion

Yin challenged: 
If you’re so hungry for it Yang
Why don’t you take a bite?
But that’s not something you would do is it,
Putting your own life on the line? 

Yang flared: 
If I could I would
But those branches are out of my reach 
I’m a fish you stupid bird!
And as you are bound to air
I am bound to water

Yin exploded: 
Who are you calling stupid,
You little piece of shit!

Then Adam interrupted: 
Shut up!
My mind’s made up
It’s my own choice and I want to do it

And Adam walked up to the Tree
Feeling an unusually chilly breeze 
As he entered the shadows of it’s leaves
His eyes were locked
On a particularly fine example
Of the fruit that grows from the branches
Of the Tree that rose out 
Of the seed of destruction
Watch that fruit
It’s in Adam’s hands now

Yin deplored:
Don’t do something you will regret
For the rest of eternity!

Yang implored:
I you don’t do it you will wonder 
“What if?”
For the rest of eternity!

Adam didn’t even notice 
His friends shouts and cries 
Transfixed by what he held in his hands
He had forgotten how to eat

Then Adam remembered
And took a bite

Yin the Bird and 
Yang the Fish
Stared in silence
As Adam the Ape
Devoured every single fruit 
That grew from the branches
Of the Tree that rose out
Of the seed of destruction

Afterwards Adam 
Left the garden
With the aftertaste
Of death and despair
In his mouth

Soon Yin, and Yang
And many more
Would follow Adam’s example
And leave the garden
To return no more
All knowing the taste
Of destruction

But there where those
Who would not sample their share
Those who stayed 
Enjoying life eternal 

They pitied the fools
Whom had tasted destruction
And left this garden 
Of perfection

But if they could see
What Adam the Ape saw
When he encountered death and despair
They would see that their paradise
Is Hell

As any artist of any higher standard knows
A creation must be flawed
To bear any meaning
Because perfection, once accomplished,
Is meaningless