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A Seed was sown, one fateful day, though Man does not remember.
It was early June, or late July...or perhaps in November.
The world was young, and life was new, a treasure to be kept.
But Man was a cunning creature, who waited 'till all others slept.

Silently he stole the priceless gift, and held it in his hand.
A moment he examined it, then crushed it in the sand.
"Sparks of light," he mumbled thickly.  "Why, that's no treasure at all!"
But throughout Creation's first twilight, the loss was great, not small.

Then Death, the silent creeper, did spring its clinging vines.
Leaves did thicken, portent dire, but none could discern the signs.
Oh grieve for the folly of mankind; let tears flow swift as rain.
Their thoughts were simple, desires petty; but their hearts were black with stain.

Nourished by the blood of its victims, Death's roots sank deep into flesh.
All Life trembled in fear fraught horror as events began to mesh.
Awakened at last to his peril, Man did arm to meet this foe.
Alas to be so blind, for it was a seed he did sow.

Now terror gripped the heart of Man, as night dark blossoms did appear.
And in the eye of Creation's Master, was that a single tear?
Now Death is common, and none despair, when its midnight vines entwine another.
They ill remember that long ago time, when all creatures were as brothers.

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