Apple

I do not think we were made in God’s image
For God is all-knowing
And perhaps that omniscience brings with it
A placid eternity that engenders an unending boredom
Perhaps he thought
I wonder what it would be like to not know
To feel happiness and sadness
By maddening turns and to love and fight with equal measure
And he shaped us out of clay and made one mouth
For us to smile and frown with
And cast us in a garden that was already imperfect
For in the center of that lush promise
Hung a crimson lie:
The Fruit