Afterlife Poem by Paul Butters

They say there is a world that stands beside our own.
We cannot see it ‘til we pass on through that wall
‘Tween Life and Death.
Once there we are restored to what we were
At twenty five.
All ills removed to leave us all in perfect health.
There is no hell nor heaven waiting there for us,
No punishment for sins committed through our lives.
Nor golden pavements flanking diamond streets
For those who have been “good”.

Yet call this Heaven if you will.
What’s in a name I have to ask.
Let’s call them Angels who live there.
They watch our struggles through this Earthly life.
On passing some will even go
To their own funeral.
It’s said this nether-world is made of spheres
One atop the other
Through which you rise as you “mature”
In a spiritual sense.
All Angels work together
Just learning what they can:
And growing to a higher plane.

All this is said,
By many round the world.
My Hope
Is that
They’re right.

Paul Butters

© PB 15\8\2011 in Yorkshire at 15.20.