36th Street: Poetry

I stopped at the station
Of 36th street to take
A look around
A man stood there
With red pants and black
shoes, his chest bared
to the waist
His hair was long and
Shiny and I could not 
see his face
I asked him for directions
And in return he gave me
A diamond whose surface
Was marked with a “9”
As I departed,
I shivered for his hand
Had been so utterly cold
When I glanced at him again,
I saw that his back bore
The twisted, gnarled limbs
Of a tree reaching outward
And carved along 
his spine It said, 
"The Tree of Knowledge"
Trying to be brave,
I asked him where the 
Tree of Life resided
Instead of answering,
He showed me his face
I knew then, 
Staring at it 
that I was His opposite
For seeing him as he was
Clarified everything that
I was not
In my hands was 
a flaming pen.

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