To be enjoyed… I believe this is the primitive purpose of nature. Perhaps primitive must not necessarily be translated as undeveloped or archaic, but instead as basic and correct; natural. Observe the trees, how they shudder from the mighty gusts of wind, and contemplate how this cannot be perceived as both exquisite and bewitching. They shudder … my soul shudders in harmony from within this sheath of selfish desire; to turn away from those longings, which have the ability to contort the mind into vile formations, is an ambition to be realized by all.
The soul, that basic instinct harboured inside the body, is a phantom; pure in nature, yet defiled by this creature that solely desires to ravish it. Destiny has forgotten (or ignored) our endless struggle with this odious angel, one so alluring that to touch it utterly consumes our minds; while it burns our nerves, wishing we were first lacking a hand with which to reach out.
Laboriously stretching upwards toward the sky, balanced precariously on the tips of the toes while situated dangerously atop the uppermost precipice, reaching for God; but you have forgotten your footing, O foolish one! To the depths at once, you abomination of the angels; you shall struggle, and I shall never unchain you.
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