He sat at night beneath the darkened skies;

if earth’s first man, its first in failing too.

Regret, in shadows, closed him ‘round, and drew

the salt and sorrow from his sinful eyes.

E’en now he heard the echoes of her cries–

Eve’s shuddered breaths– that wounded him and threw

that past, and awful madness in review.

His calloused hands still bore the scars of lies.

And yet the sky, though shrouded ‘round in dark

still shined with dots of silver, flecks of white,

with every night lamp flaming like a spark.

Those promised words, still treasured with delight:

one day, Mashiach, He would leave His mark,

and shrouded gloom give way to holy light.

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