On the cusp of each journey that matters,
a mingling of wonder and fear flushes the body.
If you made the journey,
wonder outshone fear.
Death is a journey.
I can't tell you whether it's
-a journey to oblivion
-a journey to spread one across a web of consciousness
-a journey to be uploaded into another body
-a journey to Heaven or the Elysian Fields
I don't know,
but I don't have to know.
All I have to do is be ready for the journey, and
Let my wonder burn brighter than my fear.
This entry was posted in Death, poem, Poetry and tagged poetry, poem, Death by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
