On Moving On Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

What's time to who has shed this mortal sheath?
conformity in never-never land?
what feelings are retained by long lost leaf?
what norms, what pressures man can understand?

Why should soul rise or fall, from body free
when lust and longings fade beyond recall?
What memories outlast eternity
apart from those of worms which blindly crawl?

The dreams of pearly gates free from regret
complete with pets may comfort for a spell,
but what is 'best' when appetites would whet
thirst for a second innings less like hell?

If Death is fresh beginning, colours bright
could spectrum as defined by rods and cones
stretch out beyond both ultra-violet light
and infra-red when we're reduced to bones?

Sin's self-destruction's sent to purify,
preparing phoenix flight from embers, ash,
from toil, trial, trouble, torment signify
at best pride's ride before rash final crash.

Can those who search for easy answers find
an answer sought by generations past?
Heaven or Hell outside imprisoned mind
nor rhyme nor karmic reason can forecast

(20 April 2011)