Poetry

I am the beggining of creation, In the book of genesis
The first of mankind, the concept of creation gives me no choice.
How did anger come before despair , because that could not lead
To murder. How could the friut of the ground be not an acceptable offering to the lord. I could not have known that
the blood of sheep was a pleasing offering to the lord.
In a flash of a second i took my brothers life.
I never had a choice in the first place but only if we had both kept the flock there was no murder. How can this generation understand the art of creation without anger?