The Closest I Can Get

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In the garden, there was this saying

Inside the core of an apple

“What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger”

The garden was truth and it was good and

If you can conceptualize good

Then you know of bad—but it wasn’t like that, then

The word good wasn’t trapped in idealism

Or semantics; It was sweet, unnoticed

Like breath

And that is the closest I can get

The apple in the garden

Was not just knowledge

The apple in the garden

Was pure and pure was like good things

All good with no sadness, or worries,

Or fear.

The apple was pure and that was

What kept the garden pure

All harmony and, how we say, well-balanced

Then one day a husbandman came into the garden

Told the lady of the garden she had no options, no outs

No answers…she told the lady of the garden of

Cultivation, growth, and repercussion. The husbandman

Had tools in which the lady had never seen—then she

Opened the lady like a can of worms, echoing

“What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger”

She awoke to pain; she awoke to emptiness,

And she awoke to the knowledge

of death

How much knowledge can be good?

If you know enough will it aid you?

If you know enough will it save you?

It was gone; it was picked

Knowing didn’t solve it

Knowing didn’t cure it

Knowing was death

And that is the closest

I can get

After the garden—before it went bad

There were all good things

Like not worrying when

Your next hug would be

Or if you had food or clothing

No worries over making choices that would

Make you cry

Good things all around

After the garden—before it went bad

The lady was happy as could be, and happy then

Was unnoticed, was there, like breath

And that is the closest

I can get

And the apples?

The apples were good

Very good

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