concupiscence

"But today is not for poetry"... a sad line.  Be careful of your passives, like "appearing to have had a stroke" -- even the last line could be slightly more active, although it's not an energetic kind of thought. 

Now.  Metaphorically this is intense -- at face value it's almost self-pitying (though not in a teenage whiney way), but in conjunction with the title it's exceptional.  You extend the nature of man to commit sin into the natural world (is it a sin not to be bountiful?) -- I can't help noticing that we see things in a more glorious light when we're happy (such a silly word but the only one that really does it), yet when we descend into despair (or sin, perhaps) we tend to highlight the death, decay, misery around us.  Is it cause and effect?  Having forgotten the earth, does it die from our disregard just as much as from our active destruction?   How closely are we tied to the natural world?  Is it paying for our sins?  Or is its decay contributing to increasing sinfulness in mankind?  Are we parasites or are we in a symbiosis?  

Or are we just pathetic little creatures who don't even deserve a patch of lavender?