What if death was white, instead of black,
as it is so often portrayed?
Just white.
Much like this paper.
Not the kind of white where it looks like
a bright light white,
but just plain white; there is no light.
"A light shone through the whiteness
of the haze I had been laid to rest.
It surrounded me, but did not light the way.
What was this?
It was not the fabled heaven or hell.
I guess this is where souls go after death.
What are souls even?
Are they a spirit or ghost-like thing?
Are they the conscious or conscious-ness of one's mind?
Were they a person's valued morals?
Why are people the way they are?
I mean, is it predetermined,
or just the way we're raised?
I don't really know,
I guess I'll never know."