Perhaps Heaven

We imagine that death leaves no victors, That all the spoils stay with the kill; The voices hollowed out, by the echoes, The blood running in hapless spills. We imagine grief's the only answer, To one consigned living, sans others, We imagine the dead go away, Leave no spirits, to hover. Our imaginations leave nothing for death, It's a place our minds don't want to know, The hellish underworld of tomorrow, Is somewhere we'd wish not to go. But imagine if death had an embrace, And imagine, was only the end Of the troubles and pains of this body, At the end, when there's naught left to spend. Imagine, as everyone's going, To leave that cold vacuum, of being- But death goes much deeper than living; It's only effects, you are seeing. In death, imagine the reunions Of mother with child; love with love: It's the last gift that heaven could give us- Perhaps heaven was never above?