Hello, love: the possessor of my soul.
I collect these tears in Mason jars
In hopes of filling the empty basin that is my life,
So one day I may pour them in and create an ocean vast,
Like the one that swept you away from me.
Score have I pined—or at least that is how long it feels—
While you leave me stranded on this island,
Sailing your seven seas, living the fullest life,
Taking the capricious sea as your only lover;
But I shall tell you the truth of the afterlife,
For it is not as they say—temples of worship and realms of fire.
Our consciousness resides in our brains and our brains in our bodies,
Ephemeral, to return to ash,
So why should our souls take our identities with them?
No. Our souls, in fragments held by those we meet, love, and laugh with,
Become one; when we perish they form a collective.
So when we die, you and I, we will be together again,
And because of that, despite the constant tears, I can rest easy.