She was created within the mind of Love Himself, perfect and worthy of creation. She took shape without flaw, her womb a cyclic celebration, and her countenance needing no jewel.
Without master but for her Maker and free to be what she was, this the daughter of creations Holy Artist. They His creations a reflection of the Trinity, this a love story beyond all time and human reason.
Love and innocence embodied attracted the serpent, all by the hate for Gods creation and the love He gave it.
He chose her for his testimony to the falseness of her Father.
Without accident he chose her for the gifts God had given her.
What better way but to smite the womb for he knew in time she would become
the least and the forgotten,
the unwanted and this, Gods woman,
to be owned as property by earthly masters.
To shame this reflection, to turn lover against each other, sorrow found its way where only joy had lived.
Fallen from her station and to be laid low among earth and stone, her white robe now surely lost to sin.
Her flesh once adorned in light exposed to beast and time, fully unrecognizable for what she was intended.
Her womb distorted by duty and pain, her freedom lost to subservient chain, she fell as lifeless as her Fathers rain.
Given to the world, it was her cost for sin. She was lost, she was lost, she was lost.
This forever but for a cry to heaven by Him the worthy Lamb.
The torn and broken Son sent to right the wrong, sent to fulfil the covenant that His creation could not, and love would make its way as He said it would.
His blood to be His treasures payment, His sorrow and death their salvation.
The Lamb had been sacrificed to return their sanctification.
She is justified.
She is saved by grace.
She is forgiven.
She is His. She is His. And she is Loved.