What if death were as uncertain as being alive?
Perhaps we’re transported to a huge field of daffodils & cows when we die,
& we’re there all alone,
each person alone with a countless number of cows & endless daffodils,
& we can’t measure the time because the cows have no marked routine
& the daffodils never seem to change,
& we have no idea if this is it or not, if this is Heaven or Hell or Purgatory,
& there’s no one here to greet us or give us any information.
We just arrive in the middle of a field of cows & daffodils,
& there’s no sun,
but somehow there’s sunlight, some sort of unwavering light,
& we’ve got no sense of hunger or thirst or heat or cold,
no bodily function to take care of.
There are only cows & daffodils,
& the cows just stand & look back & forth without doing anything,
& that’s when you realize you’ve possibly been sent to the wrong place.
In the comings & goings of so many recently deceased people,
you’ve perhaps been sent to Cow Heaven/Hell, or to Cow Purgatory,
& the cows are everywhere, but you’re the only person,
& you have no way of knowing
how long you’ve been here, or when you’re leaving,
or if you’ll ever leave.
Maybe you’ve always been here
& just dreamt of what you thought was your former life,
or maybe it’s just a matter of time
before you’ll be plucked from this precarious existence
& start a new life, perhaps as a cattle rancher in a daffodil valley,
or perhaps
this is just what death’s like, & we should get used to it.
