In the garden, Adam and Yve flourished
in the present. They weren’t vexed about life’s twists.
For them, mentally, death didn’t exist.
They were innocent, sincere, and naïve.
They neither questioned why nor wondered when,
nor how. Unlearnt animal instincts sent
them foraging for food to eat, for drink,
for shelter, and safety. They did not think;
they were neither wishful nor malcontent;
and, thus, an ersatz immortality
hovered on their lives’ primeval cycles.
For these good days of May, I shall be posting a few lines from a play I wrote. Now called ‘Nativity Uncut,’ it is a film looking for additional support. See https://greenlit.com/project/nativity-uncut
ROBERT COLE 