An Advent of Ascension

Part I: Pride

Whither to it goes
Never coming for a whole
But for an empty, irresolute
And fallible soul.
Bells of the House
Penetrate the air
With a conviction mettled by
An unhappening despair
To which on the accordance
Adam must yield
All of his soul
Hastened not to his shield
Of fallen grace
So justly usurped
Yet it still justifies
These forms of dirt.
Upon these bitter
And yet sweet heads
Do entertain the farces
Of fateful threads.
Ambitions untamed
By fiery passions,
Desires unborn
Yet already in fashions,
Bastions arise
From salt scorched depths
Titled with armies
Of hellish threats
Only to be eaten up
By the dogs within
Who seek only power
For their ravine skin
The foundations turn
Against the empires they built
Offering no recompense
Though ridden of guilt.
A two tongued clay ball
Are the mongrels of the lands
Ready to demean things
Other than their own hands.
As if for jest
Their sight aways
From dripping iniquities
And unjust days.
Accompany the work
Of thy good Lord
For you mustn't fail
Or attend this word:
"Are not ye who say
'Aye, I follow the One'
Yet in this prejudice
His word thou dost shun?"
Vile tester!
Begone with thy lips!
Thou lives in a world
Made at thy fingertips!
Conceited foe,
Thou knows none
Of the timely delivery
Away from the One.
You boast of perfumes
In Arabia brewed
Yet smell of grime
Disgustingly rude.
Your inflection is elegant
And your tone sweet
Yet your words are empty
Claiming you a cheat.
You hold yourself
To the utmost standard
Viewing yourself as God
Judging the slandered.
Depart with your delusions
And wake up from dream
You're nothing but scum
Evidenced by your heart unclean.
Strive to be nothing
Like the hounds I do
But careful I must be
To humble my mind too.
To seek a new
And just way
Endeavors a most
Intrigued play
At discovering instruction
To grow further
Leaving the zealots behind
And escaping this torture.
This led me
To a trial of most tension
Or as I would soon call it,
An Advent of Ascension.