The Final Frontier
By Frederick Blanchard
Death, is truly the only and final frontier,
The length and breadth of it is eternal,
The corridor leading there is split in two,
And in a flash the finality becomes crystal clear.
There’s a chasm in which some will fall,
Void of light and empty of all goodness,
Pain of the soul is this chasm’s delight,
With searing heat and intense cold as its shawl.
Traveling far away as the east is from the west,
The one on the left, parts from one on the right,
For sheep and goats will never be able to mingle,
Like oil and water or the cursed and the blessed.
There is a light for others to feel and see,
In this light is a wholesome life without end,
Gods grace and mercy comes to meet His own,
Enveloping them in a pure and awesome serenity.