First, let me give you a little background on this poem, otherwise it might be hard to understand why I would write about death.
This poem is about a person's perspective on death as being good, rather than bad or scary. I am not a suicidal person. I am not a sadistic person, or weird, etc. I have a reason to live; my daughter. And I do not believe in suicide to leave life. I just believe that death can be beautiful because you get to see a world that we all are waiting to see, if and when of course it is your time to go.
I'm not talking about being religious, I am a Christian, but the fact is SOMETHING happens after you die, whether there is a heaven or a hell, whether we are really aliens, or whether we just rot in the dirt for eternity.
A lot of people are frightened of death, or believe that death is the end of happiness on earth, but I believe that "crossing over" brings feelings one has never felt before, sights one has never seen before, etc. Here is the poem and you are welcome to comment on it, as well as how you perceive death:
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Oh Wanderer, great wanderer what have you brought me today
I opened the gift wrapped box and inside, was the reaper
You confused me with your gift, I thought death was rotten
Are you, great wanderer, my lighthouse keeper?
It was painful as my soul rose, and separated from my physical being
I felt my heart stop beating, and my chest collapse
My blood stood a torment of a thousand fires
As my sweet, dear life began to lapse
My soul rose unto the air, and a light warmed my being
An entity so bright as the sun, white and enormous
A figure stood, waited for me as I soon came near
She said she was a conformist
She showed me many things, things I had been dying to know
I was shown the secret of life and I finally met my angel
They all loved me like they knew me
True love even though they were my strangers
Oh! My brother, my little brother! He was there too!
He said he was waiting for me, he has been watching over me
I never though I would see him again
I guess life has things that doesn't let you see
Death is perceived to many as the last and final straw
But it is only so partial to what you can learn in the end
So I saved my little wrapping of the box
That I call the Gift of Death
This poem is about a person's perspective on death as being good, rather than bad or scary. I am not a suicidal person. I am not a sadistic person, or weird, etc. I have a reason to live; my daughter. And I do not believe in suicide to leave life. I just believe that death can be beautiful because you get to see a world that we all are waiting to see, if and when of course it is your time to go.
I'm not talking about being religious, I am a Christian, but the fact is SOMETHING happens after you die, whether there is a heaven or a hell, whether we are really aliens, or whether we just rot in the dirt for eternity.
A lot of people are frightened of death, or believe that death is the end of happiness on earth, but I believe that "crossing over" brings feelings one has never felt before, sights one has never seen before, etc. Here is the poem and you are welcome to comment on it, as well as how you perceive death:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh Wanderer, great wanderer what have you brought me today
I opened the gift wrapped box and inside, was the reaper
You confused me with your gift, I thought death was rotten
Are you, great wanderer, my lighthouse keeper?
It was painful as my soul rose, and separated from my physical being
I felt my heart stop beating, and my chest collapse
My blood stood a torment of a thousand fires
As my sweet, dear life began to lapse
My soul rose unto the air, and a light warmed my being
An entity so bright as the sun, white and enormous
A figure stood, waited for me as I soon came near
She said she was a conformist
She showed me many things, things I had been dying to know
I was shown the secret of life and I finally met my angel
They all loved me like they knew me
True love even though they were my strangers
Oh! My brother, my little brother! He was there too!
He said he was waiting for me, he has been watching over me
I never though I would see him again
I guess life has things that doesn't let you see
Death is perceived to many as the last and final straw
But it is only so partial to what you can learn in the end
So I saved my little wrapping of the box
That I call the Gift of Death
Published by TAW
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4 Comments
Post a CommentHey TAW, sorry for the double post. My blunder!
I really like the manner in which your poem is written. It flows well. But I too am a Christian, and being quite familiar with the truth for nearly 30 years, I know that for those who do not know Christ, who are not born from above there is good reason to fear death because there is a hell and a judgment to face if they die in their sin. I'm not talking about being religious either. Jesus made it clear that there will be lots of religious people in hell; - I'm talking about reality.Still, a very well written poem...
Hi TAW, your poem was listed as similar to a joyful article I wrote, and I was puzzled. Now I see why! I enjoyed it very much, it definitely shares the warmth of existence and how fear isn't really needed. Blessings!
TAW, please go to my page and read my work on Death, Living, and living in denial and regret.