THE CONCEPTION OF SIN

This absolute mirage of how possible it is for the mind to ascertain the destination of the soul.

This rock, this dead spirit, this stony heart,

The old man, the first Adam, initially lived pat,

The inherent inclination of sin as a nature,

The willpower subjected to this flesh by enclosure,

This body, sold south and souled out unto closed walls of unrighteousness,

A holy deviant, committing a sacrilege and resisting rightness,

 Shall I argue the strength of desire?

Or succumb to the prowess of vain enticement’s attire?

This undefiled conscience,

Frequently pruned with thorough occurrence,

My heart, before it breathed life,

Before my human spirit came alive,

A slave of my foes,

A servant of sin even to their toes,

Paid with throes, wages of death,

Slowly I died, living was strife,

A step closer to death,

So many steps behind life,

My light dimmed,

Till it shined no more,

What a vain disposition of my heart towards-

what revived the cause of the law,

This sacred law, this constant attraction,

I’m tempted; this enticement can’t be spurned,

Why ignite this passion again,

Why flame up this fire to vain,

In abstract paths & gross darkness,

My memories blurred by decision of tainted memoirs-

In concrete fall from grace,

To sin was in fairness,

These thoughts spurred as I pace,

These thoughts overruled what powered their functions,

Deprived the mind the ability to live a defaulting live of holiness,

A strayed traitor of the light,

Towered with the personality of darkness,

An influence, in infusions of pleasures-

Not endured by time or endorsed by eternity,

At the end,

The junction spoke for themselves,

The crossroads spoke against their shelves,

The betrayal of the flesh,

The spirit knows all things when fresh,

The soul, the culprit,

Their destination, the verdict,

Eternal death eventually became the life they live,

Darkness, the only light they perceive,

Their past, their mirror,

Confronting them with intense guilt taking them tour,

Here they burn,

It wasn’t real, but now it’s not fun,

A façade of the true and lasting pleasure bequeathed-

In broken cups of lusts & lifted veils of sin.

WRITTEN BY: Nameless Calvary