With the last gasp of my last breath,
I will gladly greet and welcome death.
Whether by an accident, anothers hands or my own,
I will follow him to the place I'll call home.
No fire or brimstone nor angels there,
just those full of fear, bewilderment and despair.
The afterlife is in the eye of the beholder,
but he you admire will place his hand on your shoulder.
He'll lead you to your new domain,
the place you go when you are slain.
I don't usual explore rhyming at all let alone couplets, but I thought I'd give it a try.