When I die, do I go back in time?

Am I a space traveler, soaring through an inverted life?

Will there be bedtime stories and homemade halloween costumes?

Kisses from my Grammy and walks with our black lab Libby?


Or will I fly forward, into space, to watch the years and stars go by?

Will I sit and watch from above?

Lovingly laugh as my grandkids grow old?

Will I know all the secrets of the universe?


Or will I walk among the people, as a sorry shadow?

Perhaps looking for something I can’t find?

Will I infinitely search for a lost trinket or a lonely bus stop?


Or will there be black?


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