Too late I came to Eden.
I had passed through this place before
but never knew its long and winding road.
Now I came, was called, was sent.
It was winter and Adam lay stricken with plague.
His body wasted like naked trees.
I came to empathize and smile;
to hold his hand and all the while
ignore the specter of the night
behind the bed just out of sight.
Adam would not die. Not ready for goodbye.
His sunken eyes large and bright,
His smile ready through the pain.
His cheerful voice spoke of kind friends
That he would not see again.
Too late I came to Eden. The trees sang Kyrie.
Adam was fading and Eve had turned away,
hurt and angered by his leaving.
Their children stunned, unbelieving asked,
How could Adam... How could... How?
Unanswered questions even now.
Eden was singing Requiem.
Too late I came to Adam.
To sit by his bed in silence.
Watching an inner fire consume him.
A distant bird sang Agnus Dei and Adam stirred,
picking at the pieces of his scattered memory.
He spoke my name and said goodbye.
I go no more. Eden makes me cry.
Adam has gone. He was not cast out but cast on.
His ashes sweeten Eden's earth like blessings
helping good things grow on the Common.
I sing Requiem aeternam. Amen.
