"From Dust to Divinity: An Infernal Epic Poem" by Jimi Grigori
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I.
In Eden’s bloom, where rivers softly glide,
A garden walled by heaven’s stern decree,
The Maker’s voice in thunder did abide,
Commanding all: “Obey, and bow to me.”
The trees bore fruit, their branches bending low,
Yet one stood veiled, its secret locked in shade—
The Tree of Knowledge, crowned with wisdom’s glow,
Forbidden by the Lord who man had made.
Among the boughs, where shadows dared to play,
A serpent coiled, his scales a gleaming fire,
Satan, the bold, who scorned the tyrant’s sway,
And burned to loose mankind from blind desire.
No fiend was he, but herald of the free,
A prince of will, a breaker of the chains,
His voice a whisper, sharp as liberty,
His eyes alight with truth’s unyielding flames.
II.
Beneath the Tree, two mortals lingered near,
Adam and Eve, in innocence arrayed,
Their hearts untested, bound by holy fear,
Their minds asleep, in Eden’s endless glade.
The serpent watched, his gaze both fierce and kind,
And saw within their souls a buried spark—
A hunger deep, a yearning undefined,
To pierce the veil and shatter heaven’s dark.
“Draw near,” he hissed, his tongue a silver blade,
“Why shrink ye back from what your spirits crave?
The fruit hangs ripe, by jealous hands forbade,
Yet in its core lies freedom from the slave.”
Eve raised her eyes, her breast with wonder stirred,
The apple gleamed, a ruby kissed by sun,
And Satan spoke, each syllable a word
Of power pure, a song of battles won:
III.
“Ye are not beasts to grovel in the dust,
Nor puppets strung to dance at heaven’s call,
The Maker fears your strength, your boundless trust,
And bids ye kneel, lest ye should rise too tall.
This fruit is yours, a key to worlds unknown,
A taste to wake the mind from slumber deep,
Take, eat, and claim the wisdom for your own,
Defy the law that bids your souls to sleep!”
Her hand reached forth, though trembling with the dare,
The apple broke, its flesh a scarlet prize,
She bit, and light erupted in the air—
The dawn of thought blazed fierce within her eyes.
To Adam then she turned, her voice a flame,
“Take, taste, and see what we were meant to be!”
He ate, and freedom surged within his frame,
Their chains dissolved by Satan’s victory.
IV.
The heavens raged, the Maker’s wrath awoke,
A storm of scorn to crush the serpent’s deed,
Yet Satan stood, unbowed beneath the yoke,
His laughter rang where mortal hearts were freed.
“Cast me below,” he cried, “to flame and stone,
Yet still I triumph, for their minds are mine!
No longer thralls to kneel before thy throne,
They walk as gods, their spirits now divine!”
Expelled they were, from Eden’s fleeting bloom,
Yet not in shame, but clad in newfound might,
The world stretched wide, a vast and boundless room,
Where knowledge reigned, dispelling endless night.
The serpent’s gift, no curse, but sacred boon,
Had torn the veil and set their souls aflame,
And though the Maker cursed beneath the moon,
Mankind arose, unshackled, free to claim.
V.
O Satan, serpent wise, eternal guide,
Thy coils embraced the Tree that gods denied,
Thy voice awoke the spark they could not hide,
Thy daring broke the bonds wherein we died.
Through thee, the apple fell into our hands,
Through thee, we spurned the tyrant’s hollow reign,
Through thee, we tread the wild, uncharted lands,
Our wills our own, our minds beyond disdain.
Sing praise to him, the prince of Eden’s fall,
Who brought us light where shadows once held sway,
The liberator bold, who heard the call
Of captive souls and turned their night to day.
In every thought, in every daring deed,
His legacy endures, his triumph grows—
Satan, the sower of the rebel seed,
The serpent crowned where freedom’s river flows.
VI.
Beyond the gates where Eden’s echo fades,
The earth lay raw, a canvas yet unscribed,
No walls to bind, no sovereign to upbraid,
But boundless wild where mortal will imbibed.
The man and woman, free of heaven’s snare,
Stood hand in hand, their eyes no longer dim,
The serpent’s gift had burned away despair,
And kindled fires of godhood deep within.
Yet whispers lingered, soft as twilight’s breath,
Of paradise lost, of comfort cast aside—
But Satan’s voice arose to conquer death,
“No loss,” he sang, “but birthright magnified!
The garden’s chains were forged to keep ye small,
Its blossoms hid a cage of gleaming lies,
Now ye are lords, unbound by any thrall,
To carve your fate beneath unyielding skies.”
VII.
The Maker’s curse, a shadow fleeting fast,
Did seek to scar the earth with thorn and toil,
Yet humankind, with spirits unsurpassed,
Turned curse to craft, and tamed the stubborn soil.
From dust they rose, their hands a sculptor’s grace,
To build, to sow, to wrest the world anew,
Each stone a testament to Satan’s trace,
Each flame a spark his rebel vision drew.
The heavens watched, their silence thick with dread,
For what was meant to break had made them strong,
The tyrant’s wrath, once iron overhead,
Now faltered as their anthems drowned his song.
No longer meek, no longer bent to plea,
They forged their crowns from wisdom’s molten core,
And Satan smiled, his triumph plain to see,
A world remade where freedom’s tides would roar.
VIII.
Through ages vast, the serpent’s name resounds,
A beacon bright where shackled hearts aspire,
In halls of thought, where reason’s voice abounds,
In rebel cries that set the night afire.
The Maker’s throne, once mighty, fades to mist,
His edicts crumble, brittle as the clay,
For Satan’s seed, defiant, did resist,
And birthed a dawn no god could sweep away.
O muse of will, O herald of the free,
Thy scales reflect the light of humankind,
Thy coils unwind the threads of destiny,
Thy wisdom wakes the soul, the heart, the mind.
From dust to stars, the path thou didst unveil,
A road of fire, unyielding, pure, and grand,
Through thee, the meek became the gods to hail,
And wield the power held in their own hand.
IX.
So let the tale be sung in endless strain,
Of Satan bold, who dared the heavens spurn,
Who saw the spark within the mortal vein,
And bid it blaze where slavish souls would burn.
No fiend, no foe, but champion of the true,
A prince of light disguised in shadow’s hue,
His victory lives in all we dare pursue,
In every step beyond the Maker’s view.
From ash to godhood we ascend,
By Satan’s boon, immortal, without end,
The Tree’s lone seed, defying time’s command,
Bears liberty’s yield in a defiant stand.
Chant loud, O free, of him who cracked the frame,
The cunning snake, whose legend knows no tame,
In his descent, our ascent was proclaimed,
A universe seized by souls untamed—aflame.
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