Most come and go,
yet in the end,
they show themselves
for who they truly are -
just another passing soul -
unable, in their ways
to truly love.

They bar the deepest of emotions
in order not to feel
the deeper passages of pain;
but in the end they only gain
the death they look so forward to.

What is this heaven
that they claim exists . . . ?
If not a sense of bliss that lives
within this life of earth and us,
extending in continuance
into infinity.

And what is hell . . . ?
if not the quelling
and denial of the deepest of emotions;
known to lead beyond extremes
to live the dream of love that comes alive,
just when we finally feel just who we are
and come to know the scope
of all we’ve done to make it so.

I write between the lines we knew
as only yesterday;
and find the borders in a state
of vast diminishment -
for the mystery of veils
has been torn asunder -
while all that underlies the life of mind,
that thinks itself above the flesh,
must exit, leaving all it knew behind.

Just then I fly
back into the loving arms
that show themselves to be
composed of all infinity again . . .

? Michaelette ?