Empty Souls

The mind of mankind.
Within so many, the vast majority of it lies dormant,
Hidden away deep within the writhing folds of flesh,
So that thought is only given to shallow desires and emotions,
Caught up in relationships without depth,
Built on fading pleasantries
That crumble as dirty plaster.
Where offenses burrow like insects in the rotten core,
And bring about collapse.
Yet even in minds
In which the first layer of skin has been torn away
And exploration has been made in far greater depths,
There still exists a container which cannot be filled
And to pursue a quest to fill it with earthly treasures
Would be in vain.
Still, even those with an answer chase after ghoulish desires
And are tricked into wasting time,
Playing meaningless games that only lead to addiction.
Fetid heaps of excuses lay down a stench in the paths of life,
While works of meaning lie cast aside
For days that will never come.
On the horizon, the flames of tribulation lick the sky
With the orange forked tongues of serpents,
The earth shakes with pain of labor,
And thunder crashes in the distance.
Few foresee it, as each one labors to their own benefit
Consumed with self-preservation
Gathering unto themselves anything they can lay their hands on
All the while seeking for something that would fill.
Composed on the outside, deceivingly civilized,
Yet inside, they are wide-eyed pitifully needy creatures,
Grasping desperately with clawed hands,
To find that which cannot be seen.
Caught in a life of repetition,
Falling to traps that are known all too well
Lacking the strength and fortification in the soul
To control emotion, mind, and will.
The people feel that their original source has been cut off,
Leaving behind empty souls that cannot be filled
Because there is naught that fulfills
Until a specific purpose is given
And the heart has been trained to be faithful,
Overflowed with love, and purged from every iniquity.