They say that death is wonderful,
For in death it doesn't end,
The feelings, the emotions so plentiful,
The adventure just began.

The soul is being and starts to show,
Everything it did, and it comes to know:
The pains it caused, the good it did,
Affected everything ahead,
Even the thoughts we hid.

Thought can seem to cause,
Dilutions in our light,
That make us stone to the needs,
Of the sun in plain sight.

So careful in thought and tongue,
Must we be for ourselves,
Because in thought we start to make,
Our living heavens or our hells.

Soon barricades are broken down,
Just as they should be,
I'm not one for surface,
As the superficial beats me.

Maybe it's reminding ourselves
The things we needn't forget,
We're not judged on our possessions,
But what we possess we so often neglect.