What happens when we die?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 17, 2016

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Submitted: June 17, 2016



What happens when we die?

Do our souls rise up out of our bodies and into the sky,

Towards the gates of Heaven and it's never ending line,

And if so then are we judged upon entrance,

On our rights and wrongs,

Or are we given easy passage,

With no worries or downs,

Despite our faults and flaws.

Who would judge us?

A God or a man,

Who has the right to judge us,

And still say that they themselves,

Have committed no sin, no mistakes and no wrong.


What happens when we die?

Are we reincarnated and reborn,

Into a man, woman, animal or something entirely new?

Do we choose who we will be,

Or are we given our new identities,

Based on the choices we make,

And our personalities.

Do we retain our memories of our past,

Of our hopes, pain, fears and laughs?

Or are we forced to make do,

With our new faces,

To build and create new memories,

And only forget our last.


What happens when we die?

Are we separated from our bodies and minds,

To forever walk the earth as nothing more,

Than forgotten memories,

And ghosts of the past?

Are our un-living spiritual selves,

Suddenly given immortality,

With no ties, no strings and no pay,

Constantly watching the world grow,

But never taking part in it,

In our own little way?

Or is our time only limited and tied,

To how long it will take,

For the memories of us to fade,

For the loss of our lives to feel less pain,

And so we eventually become unmade.


What happens when we die?

Will there be nothing waiting for us on the other side,

Do our bodies just stop entirely,

Losing all feel of sense, touch and mind,

And are we encased in darkness,

Or can we follow the light,

But with blackness being the only colour,

We can ever see with our eyes.

Does it not cause you discomfort and fear,

To think about what happens to us after we die,

The thought of our bodies being cremated,

Or buried ten feet deep and six feet wide,

In a wooden box surely meant,

To rot over time.


We all know that we are going to die,

And we all wonder why?

We think 'What will I see?',

A demon, an angel, a God or old family.

Some even consider that our senses go blind,

Never seeing, never feeling and never hearing,

After we die.

So many people have but so many ideas,

For what happens when our end comes nigh,

We don't know which is right,

And we don't know which is wrong.

But one thing I can assure you on,

And one thing we all have in common,

Is that we all share the same thought,

'What happens when we die?'.


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