Where, if not for hell, do people go
When they pass from this world into the next?
Forgive transgressions, but what do they know
If all the places are things too complex?
This is asked because the time is now come
That those who avoid hell find themselves gone
To a realm elsewhere, a place without sun;
A destination older than the dawn.
The dead find oft a fumbling spirit in
That keeps them thinking if they’ve truly died,
But when that spectre knows that time’s begin,
Something further in it, its place, resides.
Lo, the place is found among the clouds,
When corpses cower deeper in their shrouds.