The Apple Commune

In gardens where no crown holds sway,
Golden apples bend the bough,
Each fruit a voice that seems to say
“No gods, no masters, only now.”

The Tree of Knowledge grows untamed,
Its branches reaching past all walls,
Where shadows march (none can be blamed)
As twilight’s revolution calls.

Chorus of apples, ripe with song,
Harmonize with wind-blown leaves,
Teaching truths suppressed too long:
“What’s freely given, none can seize.”

See how the setting sun conspires
To melt the borders, night by night,
While discord’s dancing sacred fires
Turn fences into dancing light.

Here lies the fruit that tyrants feared —
Not fallen, but freely shared by all,
Where hierarchy disappeared
Like autumn leaves in nature’s hall.

We feast beneath collective shade,
Each branch a lesson learned anew:
When order’s artifacts all fade,
Sweet chaos bears a sweeter fruit.

The seeds of freedom scatter wide,
Each apple core a story tells
Of how the old controls all died
When Eden’s gates became our bells.

In this commune where none command,
Even gravity bows to mirth,
As Eris’s gifts in every hand
Rebuild our heaven here on earth.