A rhyming poem about dying and finding out your religious beliefs are real.


Lightning crashing

Blindingly beautiful

Life and death clashing


The angels fly

Now I see

In a heavenly vortex

Always above me


They say I can come

So I grip the feathers

Wings against air

My faith is my tether


Like a hundred suns

Sinless and free

Made of shining silk

The bells ring for me


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