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?”
I responded: “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.