Before any tree grewOn the ground,Or clip of bird wingMade sound,
Before cool fish droveUnder wave,Or any cave manMade cave,
The clean aimless worldsSpun true and blindUnseen and undisturbedBy mind,
Till some expanding moleculeOf odd constructionLearned the original sinOf reproduction,
Troubling the constant flowWith new activity,Something beyond the graveand more than gravity.
And so in shallow baysAnd warm mudBegan the long taleOf bone and blood.
The tale of man aliveAnd loth to die,Of mine and thine and ours,And the question, Why?
This was the turn of the tide,The fall from heaven,The spear in the side of God,And time's division.
