Under the Tree

Naked and alone I sit,
waiting for the forbidden fruit
to fall from the tree of life,
the leaves rustling above me.
Waiting for gravity
in fear of the consequences
taking the initiative
into my own hands might bring.
My mind a fertile blank,
for I have not yet tasted
of the wisdom and the knowledge
that awaits my eager palate.
Oh, I have had a glimpse
into that enlightenment,
but only briefly...
until the drugs wore off.
Once more isolated
within my own limitations,
I ponder the meaning of it all
and question my sanity.

Will the fruit be bitter or sweet?
Succulent and tender,
or dry and hard?

It smells of rotting flesh,
for it brings with it
the realization that life
must eventually end.
And yet I eagerly anticipate
biting into the bloody pulp
and savoring each drop
of rancid ichor.
I thirst for the mind-bending
awareness contained within...
although I already know
the ultimate truth.
Mankind sits at the brink
of self-destruction...
as it has for millennia
long since past and forgotten.

Will the end be fast or slow?
Painlessly drifting off to sleep
or agonizingly tortuous and cruel?

The tree of life remains silent,
withholding its gift...
letting only the aroma of the fruit
bring momentary understanding.

What will be, will be,
not the will of you or me.