I AM Adam, (I am a man).

((YO JESUS!!! WE BACK SON! JESUSMETAPHOR IN DA HOOOOUUUSSSEEE!  I GOTZ A LOT TO SAY SON....BUT BEFORE I DO THAT, CHECK ME OUT YO:))

And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth - Genesis 1:26

----------------------/I Am ADAM, man

I am the world's proxy hope, for, even before my birth
I heard a voice thunder - let us make this man as stupendous as we
Eden, my purpose, my life tending to the lush magnanimous garden given
the song of rustling of leaves, vacillating branches in the wind
the docility of majestic beasts braying, growling in benign obeisance
before me
my very palpable proof, the presence of God walking amongst me
the comfort almost too precocious too precarious for my young mind
bored. my inveterate weakness: woman
simultaneously the greatest
blessing and curse, temptation and assurance catalyst for manifest evil
and for manifest virtue, but not curvy hips or breasts dazzling
but an extension of my inner self a stimulation of the angst
from within the flesh of my flesh and
bone of my bone wrestling with the snake...
a projection of the danger of appealing choice that cuts both ways equally sinister and sly
hissing at obedience and seducing my ego for its manipulation
(for unadulterated submission never chooses it of necessity can only follow)
undulating and gyrating so as to keep logic, insanity and sin in perfect tension
hanging from a tree of knowledge
dangling fruit never meant to be plucked the inquisitiveness
to know destruction
I find myself dancing always with two partners - God's Will and autonomy
to respond in kind to his favor and make him like me
the contraposition of identity
man and woman bickering, blaming. angels with flaming swords callous in
their desire to burn my existence from memory
shameful procreating. posterity perennially repeating my obstinance; 
inexorable rain drops to fall from storehouses in the sky dark clouds
the damnation I brought on myself
the perpetual nighttime dreaming of redemption and a return
to the former ways, the Garden of ignorance, of bliss
I am the template of every man's destiny henceforth:
to leave behind the good
and through blood and shed tears to beg God for it back
groaning, the entire time

(as if life was tilling dirt and being pricked by thorns and thistles of regret
and lost youth)