A posthumous pondering
Tell me no tales of life beyond the grave.
Nor yet of faith for faith's own precious sake.
But find me the temerity to save
the lessons learned from each mistake I make.
I ask this, not of God, but of myself.
Unless perhaps, this 'God' resides inside,
my own persona, with my inner elf
with whom, in conflict, all must be denied.
The struggles of the conscience never end
regardless of the deity's demise.
The sacrifices we make for a friend?
The source of where our inner goodness lies.
The earth lays cold around me where I lay.
I see no dark, I see no light. I merely fade away.
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