THE FORTUNATE FALL
However much we cultivate the arts
Of grace and peace, there’s still a violence
Within the lower regions of our hearts,
An instinct for survival and defense;
And though we aim at magnanimity
And mean to resurrect our sinking souls,
Insults and threats to our security
Still undermine our high resolve like moles.
What measures then might yet transform us to
The sapient ones we nominally profess
Ourselves to be? What course should we pursue
To rectify ourselves and reach success?
I think we’ll find no answer from above;
The only way is falling into love.