Essence

My sin is Envy. Envy, jade green with desire, she teases me. Like lust for the flesh, I crave that which I can not have. To hide from her allure, I have cloaked myself with disappointment and despair. Sacrificing my passions on an alter of flames, I rend my soul in a frail attempt to satiate her appetite for my misery.

One step closer.

Things seem different. Envy’s allure is less seductive, and I begin to empathize with her. Her once coy looks are now more indifferent. I find myself less guarded. Surely this is one of her ploys; but I can’t resist.

Two steps closer.

Her beauty is striking, but she seems insecure. Her once devilish charm has been replaced with a countenance of sorrow. Where I once saw a shade, I now see a woman. A hint of emotion in her eyes ignites a revelation in me — she’s my antecedent!

Within arms reach.

She breaks. Her once enchanting eyes have been replaced by streams of resignation and remorse. Her voice breaks as she tells me her story.

As a child she lived in reverie. Desiring a life driven by her passions, she cared not what this world demanded of her. She knew not failure nor envy, for she saw all failures as a test of endurance, envy as the plunderer of dreams.

But as she grew into a woman she put aside her childish ways — including that of her child-like wonder. Where she once embraced diligence, she rested in the arms of enervation. Where she once was fueled by passion, she was extinguished by apathy. Where she once immersed herself in hope, she bathed in the recessions of despair.

She sobs.

Why then entice me with such a sad, desolate life?

She whispers. I have what she could have had: potential. If she could lure me into her trap, if she could make me like her, she could find solace in my then dismal existence. Despondent, she sold her soul to the Great Void to become the very thing she abhorred — Envy.

I think I get it now. I weep for her…

As I begin to walk away, I reflect on her sad, but inspiring, story. I hear something. As I look over my should, there she is, laughing. She looks up, her eyes enchanting once again, but this time she gives me a warm smile. I truly get it now.

Envy is not my sin. Envy is my impetus for transcendence. She is my warden. It is through her persistent conflict that I am taught courage, perseverance, diligence. It is because of her that my passions are defined.

I know not envy.