Reflection on the Human Condition and Original Sin

Vacant in this disposition, I long for freedom. Thus tears flood
The soul. And seldom dreams unchain the spirit. What is this
Cosmic scheme? It’s the tenor of screams, wherein, the sky is
Boiling. Thus I submit, musing upon a hint of promise. And
Aqua passions, wail in silence. Oh the depth of violet hopes,
Despite a psychic warzone. Thus the soul, gripping a life vest,
Afloat a caldron. Such religious panic, scarring the unborn,
Flinging thorns into the future. And blood drips upon florid
Gardens, my heart, bating in the wind. Dear Father, the colour
Is languid prayer. We perish in our love, clinging to divine
Scruples. Settle this soul, that I may reveal majesty. Else
Rapture is the offset of anguish. Whereby uneven, an odd number,
Leaning upon disbelief. But the Spirit is drizzling wisdom, weeping
In the shadows. Thus the cliff is fenced with faith.