The angel paths are open

Perhaps what we call death
Is not that at all.

Perhaps what we call death
Is just a change
Of address.

We slip through
An interdimensional portal
Back into our real home.

Perhaps death was where we were,
Down here in the matrix,
Not where we go
Up there
When we leave.

Deep down we know that
The angel paths are open;
The angel paths are beckoning;
The angel paths remember
The fluttering feel
Of our feet.


Undead but positive

The consciousness of the angels

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