When death comes for me
What shall I face?
An Angel with gorgeous wings, surrounded by white light?
A golden chariot, just for me?
Will I have the toll to pay to the Ferryman?
Or, will my soul just float through the ceiling rising forever higher
Seeing my loved ones, who have passed, holding hands out toward me?
Pearly gates towering as I face Saint Peter?
Anubis weighing my heart against a feather?
Or do all I deserve to be met with is a void?
Dark, black and forever uncomforting
Will it be a vibrant reality or a grainy delusion?
The question throughout ages
What will I see?
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