The tree of knowledge was the tree of reason.
That's why the taste of itdrove us from Eden.
That fruitwas meant to be dried and milled to a fine powderfor use a pinch at a time, a condiment.
God had probably planned to tell us laterabout this new pleasure. We stuffed our mouths full of it,gorged on but and if and how and againbut, knowing no better.
It's toxic in large quantities; fumesswirled in our heads and around usto form a dense cloud that hardened to steel,a wall between us and God,
Who was Paradise.
Not that God is unreasonable – but reasonin such excess was tyrannyand locked us into its own limits, a polished cellreflecting our own faces.
God liveson the other side of that mirror,but through the slit where the barrier doesn'tquite touch ground, manages stillto squeeze in – as filtered light,splinters of fire, a strain of music heardthen lost, then heard again.
