Little Nibbles

No angel's flight is ever dreamt in the glisten of its glare
over the rapture's rush that the eye regales in fancy's visionary lust.
Sugary effigies from annual recycled ritualistic rites
have tradition's talons to slither through soul.
Reason's priest and desire's strumpet waltz a tug of war,
brains screams its righteous NO, but heart murmurs, I will.

Soliloquy of inner scribe's sagacious light tales
beckons with candle shining on path towards spiritual nutrition.
But flesh has fingers, which obey the spider sighs of sweet seduction,
gobbled haste of impulse's treat always ends with divine dentist bill.