Call it an obsession of huge proportions that is
More addictive than meth.
For centuries, this has been on mankind’s mind:
Is there life after death?
I have no definitive answer but I can weigh in
Without any bit of misgiving
When I insist dreams, perhaps, are a way where
The dead can talk to the living.
I can’t be the only person who’s woken up from
A dream feeling lighthearted
Because it involved an especially nice chat with a
Loved one who has departed.
I wish this happened more often but it seems this
Insufficiency’s not modifiable
Because the phone service out in the great beyond
Is undeniably unreliable.
But then, although communicative connections in
The next life often seem to stall
Isn’t it much better to receive calls occasionally
Than not to receive them at all?
Whoever got the next life’s cell phone franchise
I’m often inclined to upbraid
For poor service but I’m still remaining confident
They’re working on an upgrade.