Inner Demons

Unnatural melancholy darkness pervades
Hapless devices of fleeting thought;
The reign of Desire lingers and sustains:
This is what clouded minds wrought.

Pandemonium! Pandemonium! Pandemonium abounds
As craving and excess (fallen angels) leave mire after morass;
The Soul, docile in its piety, is mocked with barbed crowns,
As attempts to awaken are rendered futile, alas!
 
Forth comes the call of creed, in its silent resonance:
“Free yourself of want, nixing all sin and strife!”
So is the Soul roused by its newfound cognizance
And the weeds of pining razed to nurture the scion of life.

And so it goes! Day after day, as winters pass by an eon,
Who knows what the Soul may encounter as it journeys to Mount Zion?