The Advice of Several Millennia on the Development of Eros

I am a fool.      
Born through a woman's pain and at the age of maturity I fail to give woman happiness.    
Woman runs up the trail of a holy mountain    
up to deification and eternal remembrance, and she feels a human emotion.    
She was right to eat of the fruit, but she was also wrong.    
Knowledge is a two edged sword    
that gives you the rite of passage as an autonomous being in this world with the pleasure of your own experiences,    
but the other blade punctures the lower belie with intense loneliness    
and hunger    
so that it becomes mouth to a river of steamy blood.    
     
Woman accuses the snake of leading her astray after I accused her of jumping ahead of me,    
and the snake curls around her feet,    
and she, the first sentient creature, cries my cowardly name, and I hear it from a distance.    
But I am so vulnerable.      
She is so vulnerable.    
We are naked in our pain.    
Sensations bleed out of both my wrists and my ankles.    
With this religious inspiration, crucifixion, I believe that I should love again.    
     
Woman! Woman where are you in this blinding mist on this holy mountain?    
I cannot see you as the years pass by. I cannot remember when    
you were last thrilled by my touch and when I last saw you as I did when we first met in the Garden.    
     
I am a fool.    
Man born of a woman is of a few days and full of trouble.    
I do not know if I can make it up to you.    
One day I created an altar in your honor, but you rained from above me and said in broken thunder      
that you do not want to be less and you do not want to be greater,      
but that you want to walk the ground with me and not be lifted up into heaven as an angel because you love earth  
and the satiation of desire that can only be experienced with your naked feet feeling through the sand and your toes perceiving each grain in steady pace as you breath in the air towards your internal transcendence.    
Woman, I failed you many times, but man will try again.      
     
Woman runs up the trail of a holy mountain, and I hold her hand and we dance on the splitting bones of the snake.      
I am a fool, but she inspires me not to be as much so.    
She speaks of her weaknesses and speaks of how my will inspires her, and so we aim to inspire    
as we sing,  
"May the essence of our bond be always remembered. Shalah."