Pondering Poem by Gerry Legister

Pondering plagues the mind in almost every person
each day worn out ideas attracts our attention,
coveted battles vying for minds to wonder about things,
when there is no way of knowing where it all begins.
We might say that, it is a mystery flame in the brain
or something effortlessly arranged in a time frame.
There is no way of knowing, how much we had to say,
when the heart stops its beating, and we pass on our way.
We hate the thought of death, the very idea makes us fret.
Although some people in denial live on with self-regret.
But what decree will happen when we all cease to be?
What becomes of the spirit and soul of you and me?
Do we sleep on for eternity or wonder through a cloud,
With halo arriving from heaven where angels sing aloud.
Is there a beleaguer hell where souls are cast down?
And creaky voices screamed out with tortured frown.
Such a place of intensity would only provoke thought
And soak the heart with imagery of profound Art.
It's a questions of what will be happened after death.
If the mind is allowed to ponder before the parting breathe.
Looking up into clouds before the thunder starts peeling
Back the dark sky and filling it with rapturous lightening.
Do we mortals become ripples of another reincarnation?
Quickened with redemptive force to be a new generation,
To live on land and in the seas, in the wind and in the trees,
Sauntering in the valleys singing with the birds and the bees.
Do we come back again as a failed test to live ill at ease
or become the wind that whistles lonesome in the breeze?
Will we become the stars that light up the summer days?
Or grope in darkness without power to chase nightmares away?
Will our lives become a fleeting memory when it is gone
and no one near remembers taking us gentle by the hand?
Only the thunderclap in the cymbal of a requiem song?
We hear the echoing serenades marching melancholy along.
There is no way of knowing for sure where the future realm.
Will start or what pain will take us away into the flame.
So we may not know exactly when this life will cease to be,
and what becomes of you and me?