Plucked From The Tree Of Life

Have you ever experienced resistance

like a web of black fibers -

interwoven little ghosts

clamping down upon your head -

that crunched as you bucked

like an unbroken pony

and fought them off until

they were swept into the aether

by your guide?

And then you blink your eyes

with clarity anew.

A pomegranate, not an apple,

may have been the fruit

of the tree in the garden

that was plucked and eaten,

you realize.