Goddess of Sin

For more, the heart and the senses yearn. Deprived of pleasures, a million around. For more, it screams in agony. The scream becomes the pleasure then. Forever a necessity- yet reduced to some cheap luxury- it stays up there. Awaiting for the being to reach it. Taste it. Feel it. It stays up there, untouched and welcoming. Its virgin surface spilling purity all around. Purging moral from air- the minds, vacuum from the sense of penance. Pleasure, they call it. An omen of sin.

Strange are the ways, the mind of a human works. Somewhere inside, a clock ticks- a constant reminder of being human. The animal within, put to sleep. A sleep, when awoken- seeks the pleasure. Or tries to seek. What is pleasure? It wonders. It was, after all, created by the same Creator. A kin to hope- brother to grief; sister to happiness and a cousin to pain! Why then these barriers? Why this cage? A desire to melt away the irons of moral- creeps in the animal and gives it the strength. Strength so strong, stronger than mind, itself! Pleasure- the magnet, emerges out- winner!

Pleasure- lies in things forbidden. Pleasure lay within guilt. Guilt, a proof of pleasure, experienced. Pleasure, felt. Enjoyed. Guilt is- the child. Why shun the child? What sin has the child committed- to be left abandoned? Denied? Pleasure becomes, the wronged lady. Doomed to bear, the burden of guilt. What was my sin? Pleasure wonders. Is it crime to be the way I was created? Is it my fault that the animal is awake? There could never be, an answer- ever! Guilt is guiltless- and it is only fair, to accept it.

Branded- the omen of sin; left to rot deep within the layers of thoughts. Thoughts of so-called God-fearing souls. Hypocrites, who fail to accept creation, as it is. Fail to see, the beauty of it. Refuse to embrace the truth. But deep inside- the animal lives- killing the pleasure- or trying to do so. Death was something, that could never reach pleasure. For the urge to kill becomes the child of pleasure! And so, the pleasure lives- doomed to live a half life. Neither out, nor in. Neither felt nor denied. A fate so cruel- waiting to be changed. Waiting for the doors within, to be opened. Waiting to emerge out as not an omen, but a Goddess, of sin!