I once knew a man who was an earthly saint, adored by a devil in disguise. He could never suspect the false worshipper, for he had unstained thoughts that seldom dreamed of evil.
This man was a covetous one, always chasing after what he did not have, and scattering and unbinding what he did possess. He hoped that more would bring him happiness, but in gaining more, he only found himself overwhelmed with the weight of his excess. He was bankrupt in his poor-rich gain, and his surfeit brought him heavy grief and strain.
But then came a woman, who called upon high almighty Jove, and by sweet friendship’s oath and human law, she conjured him to honor and withdraw from his borrowed bed. She pleaded with him to not give in to foul desire, but to stoop to honor and prove himself a true sire.
The man was torn between his covetous ways and the woman’s plea. He struggled with his desires and his need for gain, until finally, he chose to honor and withdraw. He knew that it was the right thing to do, and he hoped that by doing so, he could find redemption.
As he lay in his bed, he thought of the woman’s words, and he prayed that he could stay true to his honor. But the night was long, and the furnace of foul-reeking smoke seemed to surround him. He felt the weight of his past desires, and he knew that he could not escape the memory of his actions.
In the end, he lay there martyred with disgrace, beneath the black cloak of the night. He had made a choice, but he could not escape the consequences of his past. The woman’s words had given him hope, but he knew that he had to live with his decisions, and that he could never go back.
E.P. Robles | Poetry 