This is the terrible secret of death
time is a myth

As your soul escapes its corpus
the permanence of all dimensions
becomes immediately apparent.
All futures known at once
all things
all places

The infinity of beyond
time to travel
to choose your eternity
to rest.

Some choose to remain behind
close to their loved ones.
Others choose the harsh Moon
or some distant galaxy
exploring the cracks in the ethereal plane
of some foreign civilization.

Even in death, there are mysteries to uncover.

The cartographers of the afterlife
are great in number
explorers of a limitless universe
and I am one of them.

What is it I seek but solitude?
What is it I dream but silence?
Betrayed by existence
The bitter irony of being.

Even in death, there is a wish to be dead.

I am headed out now
Farther still, into the great void of all
I am hopeful that in a grandiose (and fairly Capraesque) way
That this is not all there is
And another consciousness will become available to us.

Even in death, we are dreaming.


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