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Born of dust, yet breathed to be,
The crown of earth’s first tapestry.
A charge to rule, a call to keep,
Yet silence made the garden weep.

A spectacle of trust was torn,
Eyes were wide, but truth was worn.
Once I stood in light unmarred,
Now I toil where ground is scarred.

A voice still calls, but veiled I roam,
Far from Eden, not yet home.