Adams's Dust: The Fall That Led Me Home

The forbidden tree  —  was it really about the fall? Or was it always about the rise… and rise… and rising above it all  —  into a new beginning?

The forbidden tree  —  the fall was only the surface. The truth was always about rising… again, and again… into a new beginning.

Not every fall is a failure — some are sacred detours, led by the Divine.

Not all who fall are lost  —  some are simply being guided by the Divine.

Not all who fall are forsaken — some are chosen to rise through the path only the Divine could draw.

Not all who fall are lost — some are simply being led toward a new beginning… a new dawn.

Some falls are not endings — they are the first steps toward a new dawn.

I once believed the story of Adam was sacred but distant. A myth for holy men  —  a myth for prophets. A parable from another age, another time. But now I know, I realize  —  it was never far. It was always inside me. It was always waiting inside me. Because I lived it.

Not in a garden. Not under a forbidden tree. But in a love I believed would bring me closer to God. And that fall shattered and broke my heart wide open.

I am an empath. I feel deep. I give easily. I give whole. And I once thought that was my divine gift. Maybe it still is.

But in a world that does not honor softness —  an open heart becomes a target.

She came into my life like glowing light, Like sunlight after drought. Like destiny wrapped in tenderness. Like a purpose  —  Like the answer to prayers I never fully spoke.

My intuition whispered warnings. My soul whispered warnings. Not once — many times. Even in illness. Even in silence. But I silenced the voice of truth to chase the illusion of love.

I told myself, I convinced myself:

This love will heal me. This love will elevate me. This love will help me walk a righteous path. This love is from God.

But it wasn’t. It was a test. And I failed — not because I was evil — but because I trusted what I should have questioned.

She played a long con. Tears without truth. Kindness without soul. Pretended to feel, to care. She took my love, And something more  —  my time, my sacred fire. And when the curtain closed, she smiled  —  while I collapsed.

I thought she would feel something. I thought maybe she would carry some of my pain. I waited for her remorse.But I now know… I was projecting my own heart onto someone who never held one for me.

That’s when I remembered Adam. He too was warned. He too stepped toward something glowing. He too stepped toward something beautiful. Not out of rebellion —  But because he believed  —  perhaps out of longing.

The devil said: “If you eat from this tree, you will become closer to God. You will never be cast out. Your eyes will be opened”

In other words: You will become more divine. The devil didn’t promise destruction. He promised closeness  —  closeness to God.

He sold the illusion of elevation  — just like what I believed  —  Longing for Closeness. Eternity. Belonging.

Not seduced by darkness. Seduced by something that looked like glowing light.

Adam wanted to stay near the Divine. So did I.

And like me, he was not seduced by darkness  —  he was seduced by something that looked like light.

The devil didn’t force Adam. He only whispered. Adam chose. Just like I did.

And I do not blame the devil. I do not blame the world. I do not even blame her anymore. I take full responsibility for stepping toward an illusion.

But here’s the part I had forgotten:

“Then Adam received from his Lord some words, and He accepted his repentance. Indeed, it is He who is the Accepting of repentance, the Merciful.”  — Qur’an 2:37

“The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them.”  — Genesis 3:21

Even in the exile, God clothed them. He covered them not in shame, but in grace. Even in the fall, He whispered mercy.

From Eden to Earth, His love never left. For the Divine never abandoned the first soul — He only showed him how to return.

The fall was never a curse  —  it was the first chapter of a greater return.

Perhaps it was not a fall at all  —  but the beginning of new rise — a new dawn.

Perhaps it was not a fall at all — but the first step of a divine rise.

Perhaps it was not a fall at all  —  but the moment when the earth received its first soul.

For God did not cast Adam out  —  He crowned him with the courage to begin again.

Through Adam, the story of return began.

Through God, it shall never end.

Even in exile  —  God covered them. God clothed their shame with mercy. He did not abandon them. He prepared them for the world ahead. He crowned them with the courage to begin again — to a new beginning.

So no — Adam’s fall wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. It was the beginning of his return. It was a new raise.

And maybe… Maybe that’s true for me too.

I used to give freely  —  to strangers, to the hungry, to the broken. Sometimes, I gave my time to listen, I gave my time just to console  —  to remind someone the world still holds beauty, to remind someone the world still holds light, that not all hearts betray, that kindness lives on, that goodness still exists, that they are not alone. And in those quiet offerings every time, I whispered: “Thank you… today, You did Your work through me. Thank You… for letting me be Your mercy for a moment. Thank You… for flowing through me.”

But after the betrayal, I hesitated, my hands went still. My heart too heavy. Why give, when I am emptied? Why serve, when I feel abandoned? Why love, when I was left behind?

But even that  —  God sees. I didn’t stop giving because of greed. I stopped because I was starved. Because I needed to be held.

And now, I begin to believe again.

God never stopped loving me. He let me taste Adam’s fall  —  so I could learn to walk like Adam: Not in shame, but in sacred return. Not as one punished, but as one refined.

I vow this to myself:

I no longer give to be loved  —  I give because I am already loved. I give because I carry love within me. I am love. I am care.

I no longer chase the illusion of a glowing light  —  I walk in the clarity of truth. I no longer fall for the illusion of light  —  for I walk in the knowing of what is real.

And when I give again, it will not be to fill a void  —  but to share what overflows.

And when I give again, it will not be from emptiness — but from the sacred overflow of a heart made whole.

This was not my ending. This was my awakening.

And now, the dust of Adam’s story settles on my head like a crown  —  Not as shame, but as a crown of merciful rising. Not as sorrow, but as a crown of sacred return. Not as loss, but as a crown of divine restoration. Not as guilt, but as a crown of rising grace.

And now, the dust of Adam’s exile settles on my head like a crown jewel — Not as disgrace, but as a crown jewel of grace. Not as the mark of abandonment, but as the crown jewel of my return. Not as exile, but as the crown jewel of redemption. Not as the dust of ruin, but as a crown jewel of divine remembrance. Not as failure, but as a crown jewel forged in forgiveness. Not as an end, but as the crown jewel that marks a new beginning.

I rise. Not broken. But chosen.

I rise.

Some falls are not endings — they are the first steps toward a new dawn.

Some falls… are meant to help us remember our strength.

Some falls are not setbacks — they are invitations to find the strength we forgot we carried.

Not all who fall are lost — some are simply being led to a new dawn.

Rise — and rise again. I rise. I rise. I rise.

Postscript:

Adam was the first human  —  and perhaps the first to feel heartbreak, loss, shame, and separation.

His story is not a relic of the past  —  it is the mirror of every human soul. His journey is universal — beyond time, identity, gender, age, place and beyond many other distances.

We all, at some point, must taste the fruit of illusion. We all, at some moment, are cast into confusion, only to realize  —  We were never meant to stay in Eden. We were meant to return to God, again and again.

No matter who we are, regardless gender, age, place, time  —  Adam’s story is ours.

A blueprint of falling, yes  —  but more importantly: A divine roadmap for rising.

Honor him — not for his error or fall, but for the sacred courage to return, sacred courage to begin again  —  into a new beginning.

And if you’ve ever been through something like this  —  if you’ve fallen and chosen to rise  —  then know this: You’ve already come so far.

And I offer you my heartfelt respect.

✨ Written in soul ink. For those who rise anyway.

📚 Read more or walk deeper with me: Substack | Medium | Vocal

If my words moved you and you wish to support my writing  -  you can do so here: ☕ Buy Me a Coffee

— HasanSoulInk