A poem about how nature could lead one to ponder the afterlife.
|The rain tip-taps on the window,
awakening the mind without hinder.
Drops representing a rewarding feeling,
reminding me that there is a ceiling.
Death is pondered but not morbidly,
leading to a place of majestic reality.
Shining brightly as the angels sing.
A venue where there is everything,
Thinking if I will ever wear wings?