A Life of Immortality
The fact of death, a proof of life,
yet, do we die in truth,
the happenstance of all that is,
a judgement, so uncouth.
Each is born and each to live,
and then we pass away,
our bodies perish in the sod,
then left, our souls to stay.
Could there be a greater God,
that would not gift such life,
Is all that is, nothing more,
than just a time of toil and strife?
There, to be only as emptiness,
to join the void, of space,
what is the reason, or the rhyme,
responsible for this place?
Can the earth spin about the sun,
even after we are all gone,
would there not be a tuft of grass,
a tree, a hill, nor a stone?
No birds to sing, frogs to croak,
no fish to swim or any breath,
as human kind no ways to find,
in a preventing of all's death?
The spiritual world, awaits us all.
and a home for us all to rest,
while we bide our time, in air sublime,
our wait is for the best.
We will heed the call, for souls of all,
in a trumpeting refrain,
a joining of our spiritual lights,
for it's then, we've all to gain.
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