If You Follow Your Natural Bent;you Will

The Infernal Storm, Eternal In Its Rage, Sweeps And Drives The Spirits With Its Blast; It Whirls Them, Lashing Them With Punishment. When They Are Swept Back Past Their Place Of Judgment Then Come The Shrieks, Laments, And Anguished Cries; There They Blaspheme God's Almighty Power.

Here We Find The Moat Of Thieves. And Just As A Lizard, With A Quick, Slick Slither, Flicks Across The Highway From Hedge To Hedge, Fleeter Than A Flash, In The Battering Dog-day Weather, A Fiery Little Monster, Livid, In A Rage, Black As Any Peppercorn, Came And Made A Dart At The Guts Of The Others, And Leaping To Engage One Of The Pair, It Pierced Him At The Part Through Which We First Draw Food; Then Loosed Its Grip And Fell Before Him, Outstretched And Apart.

These Dwell Among The Blackest Souls,loaded Down Deep By Sins Of Differing Types.if You Sink Far Enough,you'll See Them All.

He Who Awaits The Call, But Sees The Need, Already Sets His Spirit To Refuse It.

There, Pride, Avarice, And Envy Are The Tongues Men Know And Heed, A Babel Of Depsair