How am I made? How did I arrive? When young, I learned of Mom and Dad but long gone is the time they had. I use fuel and excrete waste, but so do machines. My body is warm, only my fire has no flame, yet my light still burns! It makes me wonder. Does my consciousness depend solely on mater that churns?

How do I really reside. If I'm a contraption, there's none that compare. Will I perish when it's beyond repair? What of ghosts who rattle chains at night? It makes me wonder ... are they only wayward fears in sight, rushing home before dawn's light? People speak of seeing ghostly ships, marching soldiers and other such themes. If they're only hallucinations, why do people see the same dreams? Maybe they're some kind of imprinted holograms that re-play scenes.

There are other strange things. Some fly like birds off operation tables while they're completely anesthetized. It's a plumber's fear, can brains spring leaks? It's so dark, how do souls take peaks? How do they know what the doctors did, what the nurses said and of events in distant rooms? It makes me wonder. People don't fly or walk through walls, can they? And I've never seen a Star Trek transporting machine!

If everything is only a dance of particles, what are my thoughts? Where do their atoms hide? Why can't I touch or see them? How do I think on the chariot I ride? It makes me wonder. Are there particles who know they're here!? How spooky, it must be rare. But, maybe things aren't all molecular and our minds are way more spectacular!

Some scientists say even particles won't last, in time the world will ruin. What if things aren't as they appear? Maybe the universe is somehow alive. If so, then it's not only we inside! This makes an opposite point of view. When flesh is gone, maybe spirits furlong but I guess the mystery persists. Will we know more when we get through the last foggy mist?

When death strikes a home, things are never quite the same. We bury the still but lonely hearts still cry. It might seem long, but stay strong and listen for the piper's calling. Some who have journeyed through the tunnel claim a bright light appears, love is in the air & old souls come to sight. Many who nearly died tell the same tale, but some speak of a different flight. Things are missing and questions persist; so for now I will say: "Death is the second door that faces the born, an exit that quenches pain. I don't aim to deceive but there are good reasons to believe there's more; yet the details still resist. People pass on but it's clear, hope doesn't have to die!"

Ken Koskinen, a.k.a. “The Naked Psalmist”
Nov. 11, 2008 (Remembrance Day and/or Veterans Day)