Passing On

Of all the things men contemplate one is extremely odd, arriving at the Pearly Gate, we make our peace with God. We carry on our lifeless backs, huge rucksacks of past deeds, we leave strange footprints on the tracks and trample all the weeds. I am an aging optimist, Luck is my middle name, when God goes down the sinners' list he'll ask me why I came. I'll say 'Dear God, I made this trip to offer you my skills, like Noah, I can build a ship with all the modern frills. Should you decide to leave this place you will be safe with me. I thank thee for your holy grace. Now can I have my key? '