Do Not Judge Poem by Marie J. Christopher

When soul judges, he first exhibits a strong dislike, the negative nature
Of his thought or repugnant emotion upon the one he abhors;
He carries no compassion, benevolent thought, nor good will,
To assist, to admonish, to correct, to point others to the direction of the just and rightful.
He simply wants an instant distorted self-gratification,
which is derived from cruelly torturing his caught victim
By exposing other's sin singularly to satisfy his inferiority or superiority
Or in order to bluff up his self-idolizing disillusioned copy,
Which tries to portray itself as a righteous and noble image,
But it will be shattered and exposed quickly thanks to its clear demonstration of instinctive savage,
Resembling a beast which moves in quickly for a kill,
For his own thirst of glory or hateful tendency he has longed to fulfill.
There is no goodwill, no kind gesture, no charity, no sadness.

Why saddess?

Because a wrong alway results in the physical pain and harmful soul-baseness;
And seeing an injustice or harm done to other's own soul,
A just noble soul should quickly feel a compassionate piercing in her heart's bowel;
Being so kind and sorrowful that her only response will be dressing her brethren's evil brokeness.

If the witnessing soul's interest contains merely unselfish unjudgmental motive,
she will quickly point out the right from wrong for the beloved offender;
She will gently, lovingly, unassumingly, sincerely, caringly correct;
And her kind gesture will induce repentance and sorrow, which shall lead to a resolving change of heart,
And ultimately the restoration of a wounded erring spirit to the pristine state for soul's human kindred.

Thus, one can see judging gradually kills charity,
The loving capacity of a soul.
One judgemental thought, by another, will soon be followed;
Slowly but surely the judgemental soul shall be fossilized into unloving barren stone
He is no longer human as a human is supposed to be a lover,
Instead, isolated himself in his engulfing pool of constantly irritated moody anger
Choked in his inhuman bloody nature, his spirit is ensnared solidly in the grips of demonic forces
Which operate solely on human negation, sins, and discourses.
And habitually inflamed by newly acquired natural hatred, soul becomes a sacarstic sour grape,
Who has no friend, no lover, only bitter loneliness.
Soul has colored himself in perpetual darkness.

Soul, don't judge!
Unless you have sentenced your soul to eternal death.