Deception.

Ruin is the eyes, for they see what is wanted,

They sought what is tasked,

They know from what is given,

And shun the will from which they only mean for it is in their nature.

Enslaved I am to those perceived of true beauty,

Blind from what glows anew,

Shadowed of knowledge with honest verity,

And lost to thoughts winding to confusion.

Is it with sin that my eyes can see?!

Or is it with will to choose which to adore?!

But sin it is to maim such liberty,

To wonder, to regard or perhaps feel bewildered.

Where is my being!? Where is the soul!?

If what brings light deceives one’s own destruction.

If wants are mere metaphors of seduction.

What do we make from what we need? A clutter of unfortunate compassion.

Adonis is no sin.