Issued A Blank Soul

In the end, we all will be delivered
Unfettered and pure as a baby's bottom
To the hand that smites open the seas
Nurses the universe, and
Rocks creation's cradle,
But in this bend of the river of life,
There are gnomes out there
Whose nose is firmly fixed to the grindstone -
Not of an honest day's work -
How could they -
But of being defiant of simple decency -
Compassion even - and insists on and persists in
Ridiculing, bickering, backstabbing,
Bringing down, stepping on, betraying
And cheating fellow humans,
Especially when they know
They won't be hit back
By a mobster or a lawsuit.

Smirching is the order of their day,
Smirking is the end they seek to display;
Of the mind, charlatan; in the heart, nonchalant;
These are the vanity vultures
Perched on bloated carcases,
Of fly-blown cultures,
Committing the ultimate betrayal -
Handing over their mind's wherewithal
To be the handmaiden
In a witches' coven.

Raven-eyed for the slightest sign
Of non-conformity or vulnerability,
They turn on the mongol-eyed puppy
In a litter of doe-eyed brownies -
Driven by the same frenzy
As aquarium fish attack
The same spot of open sore,
To kill off the wounded guppy -
Elemental animals to the core,
Humans only at the door,
Their hearts besmirched,
Their faces besmirked,
In this bend in their river of life.

One wonders if they are not bearers of blank souls -
In the mirror their reflections deflect,
How could they then self-reflect?
Hey, am I not holding up a mirror of self-discovery?
For the things I said of gnomes
May be reverberating off the rafters
In my own home -
If I am not wary.