The King stepped through the veils of flame,
To Eden's heart, where none dare name
The fruits that shone with power untold,
And roots that was born from the Absolute's hold.
The flowers wept. The roses died.
The grass recoiled where he would stride.
His goal: to rid of the Tree where all life blooms— and take the soul of the Serpent to bring it doom.
immense and vast
Its branches held a thousand skies,
Each fruit a realm where time defies.
Worlds within worlds, dimensions curled,
A thousand truths in silence swirled.
Beyond the concept thought can reach,
Beyond all form, beyond all speech. Spiraling upward to the peak of absolute perfection—Absolute infinity.
And there before the sacred Tree,
Wrapped around it the wise Serpent watched, eternity.
Its scales like emeralds, fierce with grace,
Its eyes aglow with ancient place.
Its horns, like branches, touched the stars—
A mirror of the Tree it guards.
It stirred, and time itself grew still—
It warned the King: "Turn back thy will."
The King reached back, his blade was drawn,
A cursed thing by chaos spawned.
With one great slash, defying order,
He severed a branch from it's holy place.
The Serpent hissed, the Tree did groan,
Creation shook from root to bone.
And with a roar that split the stars,
Casting the King from realms afar.
Banished back to crumbled stone,
He called his throne.