Shattered Fruit

All created as many parts in union.
God rested from the work, not works, He made.
Whole and complete, naked and unashamed,
Until creation was fractured by sin,

And subjected to futility and aberration.
After seeing the whole, naming the parts,
Man lost the view he gained at his start.
He splintered his perception.

He sees the pieces, not the whole.
Naming a rose is now by fragments;
A texture, a color, a scent.
Terms of his broken parole.

No union, but bits to conjoin.
Standing before The Maker,
Utterly and entirely naked,
But they only covered their loins.

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