In the garden of Eden
I saw you relishing the fruit
from its first encounter
with your senses
and you say
I was the stimulus?
You charged me for that
through books
through epics
through minstrels
and have been cursing me
since ages.
My captivating beauty
mesmerised you
till labour was alien.
My acts of breaking through
your prison walls
were sinful, said your Prophets.
My second sin makes me a castaway.
If not, I am whipped
and dragged by hair
back into the confinement.
I thank the enticer, however
for the fruit has made me mortal
and has thus afforded
the only possibilty
of liberation.