Thicket

A Poem

I trip and trod 
where the serpent lies 
through the breath God 
and snared by eyes, 

warmed by the blaze 
of a cherub’s blade –  
pierced by the gaze.
Love no welcome bade. 

For seeking what was hidden, 
forsaking what was known, 
I lost what I was given 
and found myself alone. 

Surely not, I thought. 
Now I rot.