Who drew the line when we moved our devils inward? Who said “evil” for the first time—evil inside us rather than out. “It was the god of revenge, or lust, or love” our elders said “that possessed me.” And they were honorable in their claims, and their gods honorable all the more. Then came the guilt, the gods turned in—and against! No wonder the romantics needed their wild expressions; gods confined in each of us? Who could contain them? What small dwellings! And if gods, then devils of them too, our desires and vengeances their battles. Here is the enormity of Christ in you. Here is the home in atrium where Osiris and Set wrestle their brotherly hostility. Right inside each human heart; the struggle of caged gods. Somewhere between Plato and Paul, we turned inward our resentment. And ever since, we are reigned like horses by our ancestors’ mores to guilt. When will we shake our leather? When we shake our skin.