And all that we’ve done has been for nothing
what if it’s an empty place
how will we face the truth that religion was
just a way of keeping us in check?
Just a sec
a blank screen could mean that we paint our own hereafter
What would you paint?
The laughter of children enjoying the game?
The peace of a walk down a long country lane?
an aroma of a home a
long ways away?
I’d paintbrush each day in colours that run onto a noonday sun
and sail into the sanctuary of a lip balm sea.
If we are
we will be
There’s no guarantee
all have to wait
I’ll keep my fingers
I guess that I’ll see
© 2016, John Smallshaw.