Curse of sapience(TW-religious lament)

God will have his justice. His justice will be in line with his mercy, a divine mutuality of mediation: Paradiso in complementation of Inferno, Gaia a subsidiary of Purgatorio. This Earth is a justice--as is Flame, and as is Gardens. This Earth is a mercy--as is Flame, and as is Gardens. This Earth lies as the only bleeding world, in which a collective flesh resides; Earth is the only planet with a heartbeat. God designed this world as a blessed forgiveness for man’s future transgressions--and all acts of sin gash this planet and watch it bleed, whilst intrinsic virtue stitches the wounds and soothes with a sauntering sonnet. God and all His wisdom, knew of our stagnation--God knew of our perforating stench, our vile odor. This Earth lies as a lone bachelor in the wake of eccentric, sinister, universal laughter. 

Heaven persists in spite of ***’s existence--living beings of polarity, for us to reside therein. *** exists in spite of Heaven’s persistence: A holy creature with a fate of frugal blessing: articulated to bend will, crush conscience, and pulverize perforating prolific profiles--as we do. Our existence is both a high hope inside the lonely show of power of God’s universe--and a show of animalistic desire, sin, frugality in prideful, empty win! Man is a mighty marble statue trapped in a minotaur’s schema--destined to futile madness till death. Madness and man’s remains remain in the holy labyrinth of existence. Articulation human, creativity human, destruction human, fraud human--God made such a polarizing labyrinth in absentia of his presence but a morsel of his mercy. 

Mediators exist as the third to every pair. Mediators are the reward at the end of our convoluted entrapment--our extravagantly decorated maze of infinite daze. Mediators act as a mixture between pairs, a peace treaty between enemies and a pact between allies. Mediators in our labyrinth come as sugar, as milk, as money, or as honey--temporary pleasures that reinstate the mind’s integrity--lofty on lime altars, safe from any falters, but mediators can die as the mind may. Mediators decay: the Earth rots, the average becomes ambiguous, and viruses convolute into what is incoherent. The Minotaur hungers for flesh--we hunger for despair, we hunger for knowledge, we hunger and we starve and we rot and we die in the name of bleeding. Decor of the labyrinth enshrouded in blood, the tiles of the ground rotting with teeth, the Minotaur gnashes and wails whilst searching for his own flesh--knowledge that withers his skin and decays his bone. Humans fear the Minotaur, but we are the mediation between light and clay, darkness and flame. Humans mustn't despair in the mercy of God, for his mercy is no gold to encase, but blood to nourish. Daedalus collapsed in his ego, Icarus in his wonder and pride, Odysseus in his confidence, and Achilles in his lust. Humans collapse in emotion and use their corpses to articulate skyscrapers--our death fuels life, and our life fuels mercy, and our mercy fuels death. Humans are an ambiguous stew of death, life, flame, and clay--individuals rotting but species unable to decay. 

Sapience is such a curse--the mediation between angelicism and fog. Our labyrinth not overgrown with shrubbery but coated in a substance rubbery. Bouncing forward via the bones of serpents, only to bounce back aided by that looming threat of the Minotaur. A blooming ouroboros, flowering from the mouth and frothing in the throat--unable to progress but blessed to reflect. Sapience yields fruit of prolific origin, and each fruit contains seeds of both cyanide and water. A sentient crossroads--left, right, either hollow or sorrow. A King at the end: incomprehensible, dressed in goldesque yellow--radiant with gleaming beams, an opalescent halo, shine bursting at the seams. The King shifts the labyrinth, provides that is false, and remains a beacon--no Minotaur or man, may mend the gaps and see what is not built for thee. God and his all-constructed maze of indefinite haze, made Sapience a curse--a shifting equation, for it can be solved. 

There goes man, in his false shine.

Walking amongst the swine.

Drinking intoxicating wine.

“But salvation”, says man, “is mine.”

At the end of sapience, comes conscience. 

At the end of conscience, comes pain.

At the end of pain, comes a flat and humbling plain.

On such plain, loud and clear, man sees the overseer.

Revealed, is God.

His justice concealed, fate sealed, and existence forever real.