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When I walk through fields of snow
Sometimes late at night
When thunder and rain sing outside
Like a chorus of gods
I think of death
And the world after it
What is it like?
Is it quiet and strange?
Like diving too deep into a lake
Does it hurt?
Like a slightly too hot shower
I like to believe, in my way of believing
That it is beautiful
A world where the evil and unkind are swallowed
Into dark depths of cold
And the kind walk
Over fields of fresh snow
And pure white skies
Where it is impossible to tell up from down
Because every direction sparkles like jewels
And wind whispers through your hair
Like the touch of an old friend
And you are never cold
And never in pain
For the one you loved mosts hand is in yours
And you walk that snow covered field forever
Eternally at peace
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I got the inspiration for this poem while I was walking hand in hand through a field of fresh snow with my friend, and I mentioned that it was what I hoped the afterlife was like. I went home and wrote it, so I dedicate this poem to my friend Ana. If I am to walk through fields of snow for and pure white skies, it's your hand I'd want in mine.