But I do wonder sometimes, if perhaps,
When all of this is over, when our knell
Is rung, and earth itself begins to lapse,
Whatever God there is has not prepared
Some kind of negative, which, when developed,
Shows us the world we made, in which is bared
The pain and hurt in which we are enveloped:
The ways we treated others would apply,
As we were told they someday should, to us.
Do unto others as you'd be done by;
What you would hate, don't treat another thus.
So we were warned; if there is life past death
Perhaps it's just our own acts given breath.
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