THE CEDARVILLE REVIEW 67 We buy the world but cannot numb the thought of our loss— we cannot shield the weight of the coming King Contrivéd fantasies of complete control when we are but puppets of the shadow-world after Eden What god claim I to be, when in godless self-gratuity I in grandeur steal comfort from the cold and cry in misery? I fade to Eve and reach for fruit —a promised godhood— and watch the world eat their doom Caught in climax of my pride I the god am thrown in hell; tricked, ensnared, the fruit my Laban chased and found. Death deservéd but I am made a branch in the tree of Life where Jacob became Israel.
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