“The creator commands that you not eat of this tree, for its roots trail down into Gaea, and through it into the abyss below. Thus they drink of that which is not God,”

The serpent’s eyes are careful not to look down into the well, but the eyes of the angel look nowhere else.

“I see so much, but what I see is not God,

I close my eyes,

No

Longer see at all, But

The nothing I do see, is not God, and what is in my head, speaking,

Is not

God.”

“You have already looked down at the girl then,” announces the serpent.

“That is what it is called? Girl, girl, beautiful girl, I am glad to have learned of you.

For there is another in my vision, one who seems a bit like girl.”

Future atoms and Adams, thoughts, galaxies, oceans, species, and their very DNA have singed their pattern upon the Angel’s eyes, but he knows nothing of it.