Primeval Stirrings

by Van McKellar

On that misty morn in Eden, beneath the first created tree, I bestirred myself in wonder as life first came to me. All about me was perfection, like me, the world was new; I discerned a certain kindred to all things made, and those that grew. The Garden was replete with desirable beauty; food for the taste and eyes was at hand. Wisdom had crafted a sylvan mansion, at the Great Artificer’s command.

On two levels were classes of perennials that were in season throughout the year, directly, upon one crop being taken, another ripened harvest would appear. The Tree of Life stood amidst, but from the others on the heights, near the lower pool in the Garden, with the Tree of Forbidden Delights. Evergreens grew back from the water, decked with tamarind-like, feathery leaves, laden with Fruit of the Spirit within the pods of their long brown sleeves.

But, of food trees in the whole refugium, none gained my favor, but rather—serene, Ficus religiosa—where I sat and talked with Father. We spoke of the pairs of happy faunae that frolicked until day was done, while, I, like my attending spirits, remained uniquely unrequited, and all one.

In the dark of the coming morning, as blossoms fell from my sheltering tree, my soul was rent asunder as love first came to me. At last, a creation of heaven incarnate, embodying charming, elegant grace, lay peacefully beside me, with joy glowing on her face. Her words were gentle and caressing as they tenderly kissed the air; mysterious …were her, starlit eyes; radiant…were the tresses of her Raven hair.

When came the soft glow of morning light, my thoughts did skip and spin, aroused by the perfume of the petals, accentuating the sweetness of her ebony skin. I knew her then, as mankind’s greatest treasure, though, only moments with me had unfurled, for, hers was the beauty of every woman that comes into the world.

I was king! All creatures, great and small acceded to my every command, yet, with her first, “I love you,” like them, I nibbled from her hand. As time passed on in my kingdom, it was not all laid back and never demanding, tout au contraire, there were days of excitement when life for all was truly outstanding.

The sun was sinking to the horizon when a zephyr rocked the Tamarinds so that the aroma of the ripening yield was adrift on eventide’s winds. Heady from the rush of nature, we sat enraptured by the sight of Eve dancing with shadows, in the waxing moon’s coming light. Thus, did Paradise enchant those chosen to enter there. From the plateau to the meadow gate, Father’s Glory was everywhere.

We slept that night in naked innocence; on the morrow, trouble came. Tho’ two lovers broke the single rule; as one flesh, we shared the blame.

How we came to disobey is a tale told often in rhyme and song—of lust and secret longings—and other accusations just as wrong. It was not a deal done in secret, not one slidden beneath the covers. Just a thing that faithful people do when they want to please their lovers. She was not sneaky or sly, she wanted to give me a special treat, it’s just that she got it from the fast-talking guy that haunts the taboo side of the street.

Father did not buy it! By the act, our genes had become impure. To affect Our former state of bliss would need a multi-generational cure. Hence, banishment included our posterity; the Earth was afflicted with thorns for our crime. I left with my Love beside me, stepping into the stream of time. I know not our days gone from the Garden; nor can I number the nights, she has cried for us; Willows down by the pond still are weeping; dead leaves rustle with no little fuss.

By the secrets of prophetic dreaming, I came to see what end our disobedience has wrought. I flew above levels of shattered kingdoms that had lived, and had died, and were nought. At the end was born a Scion, sent by Father through humble birth. He too, suffered the mockery of thorns but, by obedience, healed the Earth.

One day I will awaken in the Garden, beneath the first created tree, I will bestir myself in wonder as life returns to me. All will be as it should be, with my children and the Tree of Life, Yet, I will treasure those first days in the Eden spent with Father and my loving wife.

Primeval Stirrings by Van McKellar

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