IN this age
when Eve laughs at Adam
who has lost his heart,
trace not your origin
in promiscuity and paradise,
and weary not the dust-ridden minds
troubling the tribes and the totem.
In this age
when the ways of Eve
strike terror in the heart of Adam,
that has lost its beats,
and doubts the sanctity
of the source of life,
interrogating Eve’s beginning,
and her first conception,
trace not your origin,
in the silence of the graves
and the spirits standing sentinel.
In this age
when atoms explode to shatter
what is not of God,
and while shattering His own reflection
in sound and shape,
see, how Eve struts,
forgetting her Abel and Cain,
while anthropologists measure skulls.
It is humiliating
the way we look on Eve
who made us, men;
but trace not your origin.