Beside Herself
When my mom was passing out
She insisted that she be cremated alone
In a cinerator all on her own
In case her body and soul be entangled
With other people unknown
But we never know how it came out
What we got was half a pound of ash in an urn
Was that all of her, or a dab of a common burn
Why not mingle with so many a mate
Are her loved ones more intimate
Was her ex-life too perfect an state
For her into other beings to incarnate
That she wanna be herself by and by
Wouldn’t she wanna be a perennial tree
A butterfly, or a bird, that rejoice in free
If there were other choices of afterlife
Beside herself, just to make a difference
Afterlife
Some believe in eternal living heaven
Some in ever-on incarnation life after life
Some reserved their cells for clone
Some would freeze in liquid nitrogen
Waiting for awakening to a better world
IF Percy Shelley had been recovered from storm
Could Mary have revive him with lightning of love
What would afterlife be, if not a Frankenstein