This poem is a somber reminder of trading off spiritual and eternal hope for temporary, worldly pleasures. I use the first-person singular, but hope to avoid being in the number.

Three stanzas use iambic pentameter with an ABBA rhyme scheme, a bit different from my usual.

The first stanza goes like this:

I sought in Man to satisfy my needs,
I tried to make this Earth my fixed abode;
In Things I placed my trust, to the Flesh I sowed,
In these came Death, for all my evil deeds.

The full poem, only in the email for subscribers. As always, explanations here. And being the kind soul I am, a request will get you the whole thing when you leave me your email below.

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What do you think?