Was I Ever Even Here?

God will speak to me on another level. When I am dead, the words encased On shelves on meter-on-meter-thick walls Will devour me for a change. The locked doors to my soul will be unlocked, And I will fall through the quicksand of this life. Without holding my breath. It is then God will speak to me in a hushed whisper. It is then the sounds of the entire universe Shall be singing in one voice. It is then a delirium of dancing shall spill over. From the shadows; a dervish kaleidoscope Of white pages will be like a spinning vortex, Some already written, some already -wrote, But on the whole, the bulk of them Within me will be laughing, truly centred For the first time, asking if that was all she wrote. ' And then finally, with all my questions answered, I will then disappear. Like a puff of magician's gunpowder smoke Into God's right ear. Questioning, Like all good fictional lovers do, Was I ever even here?