While I was wandering within the wintery woodland,
a Sylvan sylph emerged gracefully from the marshland,
while a wisp woefully slipped through a murky void of banality —
and through mine eyes these beasts gazed emphatically upon my sanity.
The sylph scolded:
“When one lives one’s life weakly and with frivolity,
one omits and forgets one’s own fleeting ephemerality:
our most basic temporal quality is mirrored by our vanity —
you will die soon,” the sylph spoke softly, “seek Christianity.”
The wisp whispered:
“Penitence and repentance have always shaped humanity,
the inanity of duality entwines the veins of corporeality:
the red chains of fate favor whose who shun centrality —
why waste life to chase unremitting inhumanity?”
“How could one choose their reality so callously?
Morality through vitality, the spirituality of humanity:
to choose but one would be fraught with fallacy —
yet indecision, too, illuminates naught but insanity.