The Garden of Eden

The only real knowledge is the knowledge of experience.
The word is emptiness.

My first memories are not memories,

They are instincts of remembrance.

When my mother took the rattle from my hand

And I experienced loss of self,

The pain of separation and judgment and dirty diapers,

Untaught, yet shown to us in death pangs:

When my mother declared: "Baby!, Rattle!"

And I learned that I would have to fight to keep the rattle

Or experience this guilt, this shame

Of tasting this fruit. 

Knowledge speaks only in the language

Of time and law and consequence.