What Happens After Death? (of things that interest me)

 

Bathing daily as I do,

Listening to the radio,

Emergencies, catastrophes,

Boats sinking or aflame or both:

What happens after death’s end breath?

 

‘The poisoned lung… the old, the young…

The fire set on purpose,

One hundred fifty-nine lives lost’

Through living skin I take it in:

Corrupted ethics, trials. Why?

August weather’s all but frosty.

I, with plethora of food in fridge,

Them there rigid,

Stench of rot.

I, desk full of paper, notes;

Money to buy more.

Stuff stuffed into each shelf and drawer;

The closet door can hardly close for all those clothes,

And I, asking ‘bout death and after.

Am I daft to wonder, wander into guesswork’s trap?

Or have I found a craft to cope,

Yoga’s science and art of hope?

For something must exist – a consciousness

Not here, but in a sphere somewhere.

It isn’t logical

That something can become a nil –

Something that has had a pulse.

What else makes sense?

This senseless chaos I sense is not chaos

But some inner justice

Somewhere, somehow in the universes

of creation!

In a sudden quickening of thinking

In the probabilities of speculation

Here I sit in bath’s ablution, asking questions

About what happens after death?

 

What Happens After Death? 8.9.2016

Birth, Death & In Between II; Circling Round Baths II;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

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