For all my talk of Higher Consciousness,
A state of soul to which we might aspire,
Don’t think I’m unaware of the abyss
Of sin alluring us—infernal fire:
Our pride, lust, envy, gluttony and wrath,
Our sloth, our avarice, and our despair
Divert us from the spiritual path
Bending us toward some diabolic lair.
As Spenser’s Redcrosse Knight of Holinesse
Discovered on his quest to find himself,
Monsters of every sort impede success,
Even of such a dedicated elfe.
So must it be for us whose sickly soul,
Assaulted by such sins, is far from whole.