'' Death Could Be But A Transition '' Poem by Bri Mar

I'm about to die,
So I will not lie,
It's with a feeling of trepidation,
Death you cannot quantify,
Will it be nothingness or perhaps elation.

I cannot grieve,
Never did believe,
The concept of a Heaven or Hell,
The past I know you cannot retrieve,
Is there a future? Who can tell.

Though I questioned God,
Him I never did laud,
As a subject it's too far fetched,
The human mind can be really odd,
Reality we tend to have stretched.

Is there an afterlife,
Where there is no strife,
Ruled by a being supreme,
I'd hate to think I would meet my ex-wife,
What a nightmarish dream.

Are we in human form,
Where we all conform,
To the one we call the creator,
Are peace and harmony always the norm?
Who or what is a fabricator.

As I pass over,
Will the angels hover,
Awaiting to carry me away,
Will I be like the pig in clover,
Loving each and every other day.

Or will I just go,
Where I won't even know,
Who, what, why, when, where and how,
Nothing itself won't come as a blow,
As there's nothing I cannot allow.

Of atoms we're made,
So it has to be said,
It's a fact they don't ever perish,
If as stated they do not degrade,
Surely that's something to cherish.

I can live in hope,
But with death I'll cope,
As I now face decomposition,
I'll leave myself with plenty of scope,

‘' Death Could Be But A Transition ‘'