If your soul is undying, it's going to subsist
In the celestial reality like an eternal piligrim.
Leaving the secular body, it's free and can't resist
Flying through the black tunnel as if in a visionary dream.
The dizzying heights turn it acrophobic and shaken,
And suddenly, when blinded by a numinous light,
It wonders if that's really heaven or it's mistaken
About telling in the mystical afterlife wrong from right.
After all, death is a misconception of a human mind.
Non-existence is still not a fateful termination.
The supreme creation doesn't look like a double bind:
There's more than meets the eye if we use our imagination.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very thought-provoking. I enjoyed this one. Sincerely, Mary