I am Adam.

I am Man.

Those created by another’s hands have destroyed themselves with their own.

Existence is young, but has already lost its substance. I have seen the seasons change almost one-thousand times, but I would trade it all for just one day in paradise – where it all began.

That place was merely a dream, fading with time and increasingly difficult to explain… yet, more real than the air I breathe or the water I drink – more essential too. Our world is a shadow compared to it. Reality is a dark, dense fog that has saturated the fibers of my soul, pinning it to the ground.

Life is heavy now, and hard. We strive for things that can never be achieved and break our backs for what had already been given to us. Time governs our bodies and death… death reigns supreme.

——–

The earth itself has become like us – wild and cruel. It is strange how this new world feels so old and gray – the old one was always new.

It was a garden, made for me, and I for it. I don’t know if it was big or small, but all of it was familiar – and full of wonder. If there was an outside world, I didn’t know it. The garden itself was life. All that existed lived. Now, that is no longer true. We exist but do not live.

Under my hand, life flourished in the garden. I worked but never labored. The plants, the water, the animals, even myself – everything had an indescribable elegance, an outward glow. Many today stand in awe of the rich colors that surround us, not understanding that they are but worn, dried-up hues from a once vibrant canvas.

Gold and rubies were as common as trees. In that time they were dazzlingly transparent. You could see the light through them. Now, their beauty is relegated only to themselves. They are solid and have less value.

And the animals, the animals were so free. They recognized who I was and listened to me. They knew nothing of fear. Each served a purpose in the garden. Some helped sustain it, and others only added to its beauty. How spectacular that was! Everything was in balance. Each being contributed to the other’s good.

I can’t remember how long I was there. Each moment was infinite, it seemed. In my head now though, it was all a flash – a powerful bolt of lightning. But that’s how each world views the other, isn’t it? It is impossible to see land over a sea of eternity. We need a messenger from the other side.

Very little remains that has not been lost. Of course, I can only see what has been lost. How can I not? The flaws of this land and this people call to me. My name is written on them. For the young there is still much to marvel at, but only because they don’t know what once was. Even a glimmer of light is thrilling for a man who is blind. No, all is ruined. All is ruined because of me.

——–

I used to know Him. I used to know Him like I know myself. He had no name. After all, names are for things that need knowing. He was always there, and I could see Him, although I can’t remember if it was with my eyes.

Yes, He was there, as plainly as the morning sun – but not the same. He was brighter, warmer… closer. He spoke to me also, and I heard him not only with my ears, but the same way that I hear my own thoughts. Everything that He said filled me with joy. His voice reached my every sensation. It was the sound of a stream, view of a sunset, coolness of a breeze, smell of a flower, and taste of honey. His voice was more of a home to me than the garden itself.

It was He… yet more than He. He was the hand that formed my being, the breath that gave my breathing, and the word that spoke my meaning. I used to know Him in full, but now only in part. I yearn to have Him back. Although I suppose He never left. No, I yearn to have me back. I yearn to be whole again. I yearn to see things as more than a reflection in a pool. …