Proverbs in Anima Humanis or Vice, in Verse

Pontias Pilate asked of the Savior, "what is truth?" If Pilate was a Roman and found truth vexing, well, that means that, as a plebeian American, I shan't aspire to so esoteric a question. I shall ask, more answerably, what is sin? Is it error? I suspect not, for that would mean that mistakes, generally committed unwittingly, were in fact not accidents. Mistake implies that remediation is possible. To err, we are told is human. To forgive, yes, is divine, but equally divine is that the sinner recovers and redirects after said misstep.

So is sin, then, fault? Closer, I think, for this indicates calculated choice over which the soi disant sinner  exercises some control. If I were to presume to define, I would quote and quoting, choose St. Paul (which is highly unusual for me as St. Paul represents the saint with whom I least self-identify. In which case, it could be said I am, then, most like him as he reflects the parts of me I least like). St. Paul says (some liberty of personal translation taken) "I do that which I don't wish to do and fail to do that which I should." Ergo--a simple, working definition of sin, or vice. Having waxed eloquent and, I fear, ad nauseum, I proceed to my analysis of vice, in verse.

Care fetters the body
as shackles, the imprisoned bind
but pen to parchment opens manacles
and frees as surely as a jailer's key

Doubt sows tares in good intentions
and beats plowshares into swords
whilst Faith tends the Gardener-given patch
gladly, gently, peaceably, and with love

Deception perverts truth
as a wasting sickness cripples and deforms
yet honesty gives wings to the earthbound
to take it's message heavenward

Melancholy wrenches the mind
like stones, causing the foot to stumble
but a smile lights the countenance
like pixie dust and a faerie bonfire in spring

Loneliness corrodes the heart
like acid on a blooming jonquil
but friendship is heart's-ease and rain
like tears, washing away sadness and want

Fear corrupts the soul
like mildew in rising damp
while trust dries up encroaching mold
blowing it to nowhere where it can harm no one

Strife ignites the stomach and
heats the blood, like flame to tinder
laughter, also like conflagration,
spreads and warms without burning.

Anger charges the choleric to
take up arms and duel to death
but tolerance inspires the sanguine
to put passion to healing

Hatred impales, decapitates, silences
like a guillotine or pikestaff
while Love embraces, rebuilds, resurrects
as Man, once dead, lives again

Pins Welcome!

Follow Me on Pinterest

Follow by Email

Search This Blog

Blog Archive