Guilty pleasures, self-gratifications,
and the stench of human flesh 
so irreverent,  
beleaguered by temptations
of physical haste;
worms exit the cavities
of their putrefying morals,
their hungry souls deign to die.
The tempter tells them to feed 
their cravings by turning stones to bread;
the VOICE of reason cries:
             It is written, Man shall not live by bread 
             alone...
still, their own posterity is beckoned,
and conceit becomes a big, black pit
deep in ignorance,
as they reckoned
themselves gods 
and goddesses, controlling
their own fate; down to 
the bone, hating the chidings
that roar across the face of darkness,
as the tempter tells them to cast themselves
down, angels will have charge over thee;
the VOICE of conscience screams:
	It is written again, Thou shalt not tempt 
           the Lord thy God.
they unwittingly don slavery's shackles
of sickness, pain, and death...
cold, distanced from the Son
as they deny the price He paid;
the walls are steep, the mountains
are high, the waters—vast.
In anguish, He looks on at their stone 
hearts that plead for perpetual fire
as the tempter tells them to worship him 
and he'll give them the world and its glory;
the VOICE of conviction cries:
	It is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord
           thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.
(The moral)
Temporal fulfillments cost someone their soul.
It is written.
Enough said.