The Fourth Tread from “Call Me A.C Green..(Poem):
“How Wisdom Keeps Lust at Bay”

“Day and night, listening to the words of the wise keeps my lust deprived.” That’s my shield, my rhythm, my way of holding steady in a world that’s always trying to pull me off course. Lust isn’t just a fleeting urge—it’s a force that creeps in, testing my resolve when I least expect it. But I’ve found a defense: wisdom. Not the fleeting kind that comes and goes, but the deep, steady kind I draw from the words of the wise—mentors, scripture, voices that echo truth. Aristotle saw virtue as a habit, something you build over time, and scripture backs that up: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Proverbs 9:10). Day and night, this wisdom shapes my restraint, keeping lust at bay and my soul intact.

Wisdom as My Armor

Lust doesn’t knock politely—it barges in, loud one day, subtle the next. Without something to counter it, I’d be defenseless. That’s where wisdom comes in. It’s not just a collection of smart sayings; it’s armor I put on every day and night. The words of the wise—whether from a trusted friend, a sermon, or the pages of scripture—give me something solid to lean on when temptation starts whispering. I don’t just hear them; I listen, letting them sink in until they’re part of me. That’s how I keep lust deprived—not by willpower alone, but by filling my mind with something stronger.

This isn’t a one-time fix. Day and night means consistency, a rhythm that doesn’t let up. Lust doesn’t take breaks, so neither can I. The wise don’t just tell me what to avoid—they show me what to pursue. Their words aren’t rules; they’re a roadmap to a life where restraint isn’t a burden but a strength.

Aristotle’s Habit of Virtue

Aristotle had it right: virtue isn’t an accident—it’s a habit. He believed that you become what you practice, that goodness takes root through repetition. For me, that’s what wisdom does—it turns restraint into something natural, not forced. Every time I choose the words of the wise over the pull of lust, I’m building that habit. It’s not about being perfect right away; it’s about showing up, day and night, until resisting temptation feels less like a fight and more like who I am.

This fits my battle with lust perfectly. It’s not enough to say “no” once and call it done—lust keeps coming back, testing me in new ways. But Aristotle’s idea gives me hope: the more I practice restraint, the stronger it gets. Wisdom is my training ground. By listening to the wise—those who’ve walked this road before me—I’m not just dodging lust; I’m growing into someone who can stand against it.

Scripture’s Steady Voice

Philosophy lays the groundwork, but scripture brings it home. Proverbs 9:10 says, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” That’s where it starts for me—not fear like dread, but awe, respect, a sense that there’s something bigger worth living for. This verse isn’t abstract—it’s practical. When I let that reverence guide me, wisdom flows in, pushing lust out. It’s a trade: I give up the cheap thrill of temptation for the deep clarity of a life rooted in something real.

Then there’s Psalm 1:2: “But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.” That’s my blueprint. Meditating on scripture isn’t just a ritual—it’s a lifeline. Day and night, I turn to those words, letting them wash over me, crowding out the noise of lust. It’s not passive—it’s active, a choice to fill my mind with truth instead of letting temptation take up space. The wise voices in scripture don’t just warn me about lust—they point me toward joy, purpose, a life that doesn’t need to lean on fleeting desires.

Restraint as a Practice

Restraint isn’t glamorous—it’s quiet, steady work. But wisdom makes it possible. The words of the wise don’t shame me into saying no; they inspire me to want something better. Day and night, I’m reminded that lust promises more than it delivers—quick highs that fade into regret. Wisdom offers the opposite: a slow, sure strength that builds me up. I practice restraint not because I have to, but because I’ve tasted what it’s like to live free of lust’s grip.

This practice takes shape in small ways. When lust stirs, I don’t wrestle it alone—I turn to a verse, a prayer, a lesson I’ve learned from someone wiser. I keep those words close, like a playlist on repeat, so they’re there when I need them. It’s not about shutting down desire—it’s about channeling it toward what lasts.

Day and Night, Lust Deprived

The beauty of this is how it works: wisdom doesn’t just block lust—it starves it. Day and night, I’m feeding my soul with the words of the wise, leaving no room for temptation to take hold. Aristotle’s habit becomes my reality; scripture’s truth becomes my strength. Lust might knock, but it doesn’t get in—not when I’ve got wisdom standing guard.

So I keep listening, keep practicing, keep choosing restraint over chaos. The wise have shown me the way, and I’m walking it—one day, one night at a time. Lust doesn’t stand a chance when wisdom’s got my back.

The third Tread from “Call Me A.C Green..(Poem):
“Battling Lust: Protecting My Eternal Sunshine in a Lustful World”