The Last Place

If Death does not
Happen we take
Bread hoping it
Removes us soon.
We demand a
Glorious Death;
Not just a death.
Anybody can
die. The chosen
Go to Heaven.

We seek notice
As children who
Vie for candy
From grand-parents.
Our Good Lords want
Us all with Them
enjoying their
pretty flowers.

Some plants have thorns.
Heaven’s devoid
Of any pain.
Only softest
blooms are allowed.

It seems like an
After sprinkle
This description
Of Heaven’s feel.
But what could I
Know about the
Mighty Threesome?
I might be wrong.
There maybe four
Or even more.
Eternity and
Infinity’s big.