Sin, a Secret

What is the secret of sin: that I may reap the glory; for “we
Eat in sorrow,” athirst for salvation. What is this mystery?
It writhes within, partly dead; and it groans within, partly
Alive. What is this mystery? I drink a shadow, and filter life;
And such a flame, the gates of God; and such a sword, the
Path of Eden. I surely drift, and ponder beauty; and surely
Turn, for life is bare. My angel dear, the wings of grief; and
Sullen brides, plead the Lord; and tricked was Eve, a
Serpent’s game: the curse of life: a cradle sin. Indeed the
Pain, a torn affair: I’m nearly faint—the paint of Love; and
Adam sighed—a faultless cry: a failed attempt: a torn affair;
And death was born, an Abel son: the wrath of Cain: a
Jealous rage; and stamped with life, a sore repent: a sacred
Tribe: the fruits of pain.