What if instead
death was a start,
and life just a womb
that waits to depart?
If there at the end,
with white clouds in mind,
there is just the next place,
of countless to find.
And should you forget,
from your journey between,
that you're a star child
and this is a dream.
You, Universal,
the sentient mind.
Time, the bookkeep,
through which you unwind.
Fear, the master
that rarely you know.
Love, the chemical
that keeps you in tow.
Hate, an anchor
that drowns in the sea.
It laps at the waves
of empathy.
Believing there's nothing
to learn or teach,
confusion keeps wisdom
too far to reach.
The doubt, the half truths
and the outright lies,
beggar the light being
we have inside.
What if instead
of leaving this earth,
we travel back home
to the star of our birth?
Learn in the next life,
whatever it seems,
that we are star children,
And these are all dreams.
