The fruit was delicious; atoms of the universe
were still young. And crisp. Never
have they been swapped around, those
early atoms. After all, it was only their first
metamorphosis. Like beaded bubbles
in they rushed: divine conjugation
with divine vibrations. How
nice. In mid-air I watched myself
materialize: a shape fairer than ever.
It always felt strange, but then, it was
good. It was very good, indeed; it might even
have been a little too good.
In this body I might stay
just a little longer. Yes it was
already a little longer
than usual, granted;
but then
what was the
hurry?

I fell

On the ground I lay; first breath upon
first dusts. Out of the ground atoms of Adam
rose, the same atoms that once held
my fruit in embraces dark. Under the Sun
they followed me around. Apple of their eye
I must be. In generations and generations that
follow, myriads and myriads of heavenly
spirits shall be tempted, as myriads and
myriads of universes shall be created; yet

I am the first alchemist.
I created, this universe; out of
an apple, no less.