There Ought To Be Poem by John Yaws

I've heard tales of perfect romance,
Of love that's pure and free.
Of gently burning passions-
Which bring such ecstasy...

Of childhood sweetheart's marriages
That last for fifty years.
The joy of life together, yielding,
Sweet, nostalgic tears.

I have heard of bright Valhalla-
Where the warriors ever dwell,
A resting place for fighting men-
Long since consigned to hell.

Where they abide with armor bright,
Their laurels give them rest,
Companionship with comrades-
Who have also passed the test.

Are these all flights of fancy?
Or dreams which do deceive?
To calm the poor survivors...
And help them not to grieve.

I cannot say, we cannot know...
But this, I think I see-
If such delusions are not real-
They surely ought to be.

There ought to be a place for those
Who hadn't one below.
A place for weary warriors-
Who once fell before the foe.

A place for jaded lovers...
Where from heartache they are free-
If there is no such a place as this-
There surely ought to be.