After Life

You always thought you would die and then

be resurrected to live again.  

Or you lost someone you loved so much

you invented Heaven to stay in touch.

Or you simply refused to believe your soul

could just disappear down some black hole.

Or maybe you chose to believe that spark

would go with your body into the dark.  

Or that all your joyous exhilaration

was only part of a simulation.


All wrong. All right. All misconceived.

It matters not what you believed.

It matters not which part you played

in the personal universe you made

from which to learn, with which to touch

the other gods you missed so much.

Published by Jess

See my web page.

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2 Comments

  1. Really lovely poem, Jess! I must learn to write poems in iambic pentameter.
    Sandra B.

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