When Death's cold hands opens the knob of the afterlife.
And the man walks silently with hurrying thoughts into his new home
He wonders what his fate will be
Could it be the red tongued fires of hell?
Or the peace encircling God's threshold?
He remembers the loud rhetorics of the preacher man
Howling at his poor soul on earth
Here they are louder,even deafening.
He fights hard to shun those earthly voices.
He sure wasn't a saint
But he gave every soul what was their due
"That would fetch a haven for souls like his", he thought.
"Judgement mustn't always be religious
If only God would examine our souls as men
And not some demi-gods."
He thought and walked on.
He found it,
A home for all who were truly human
He couldn't describe the peace and the laughter reeling from the souls here.
He found a small spot, clean and serene
He laid down his head and dozed off
He didn't find God or get scald by hell.
But he was sure he reach his haven.