The Natural and the Spirit

This imprisonment of clay, this putrid jarred tint subjected to time's defeat, this cankered vile contagion. tossed to and fro as on a sea with unrelenting anchorage of ease, this worm, ephemeral in the bay leaf of existence. this dirt of appointed time, fixed by irreversible decree, fleeting by clipped tickle, here mere mortal toiling to gather stones, hay and stubble. with diseased brow, worms fighting worms for passing fame. Finite frame transiting through ceaseless vanities myriads from these pains, willingly oblivious of the power of Time, throng the gates of mammon to hideous and dreadful apparition, little minds, unwilling to enlist in the real battle. And multitudes ignoring the signpost in rush to gaiety several on sensuous doorway to doom. As captives of Lust, enslaved by Ashmodeus This Frame wears Luciferous garbs Pharaoh and Herod bodied The beast of pride, despising the breath of his nostril conjures theories of atheism from his erratic emotions arrogating his existence and all to “second cause” despising the first cause preceding all causes. They go on and on they go. There were abject who in time past, cut the cables of belief sailing over the tempestuous ocean of free thought. reviled the coast of revelations seeking Life among the dead, and rushing on the mad voyage, wondering through confused obscurity In search of life in all vice to the very extremities, wearied by wasted years, came to their senses. Looking up to His hill, To Yonder Light through the Cross casting all dependence aside they enter the Ark These now deal in matters of eternal realities, unknown, unsought, conscripted to miseries still, pangs shot through their faces as arrows piercing a foe, These have deceased bodies and suffers too, Longing for the returning of the King these likewise are subject to the monstrous ills of the decaying filth but for a time, the dying body, taunted, Jeered and calumniated. carrying about a third force unknown to all, the Spirit. They do battles with unseen foes to keep a pace with Him unseen spirits their attendants. Myriads watching the match from vantage confines, though among men, mere men no longer. Come in No Luxury required