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.

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