Last night I dreamed a dream . . .
Of A celebration of life I read.
“I’ll go and have some fun.” I thought.
“This ole house is boring and dead.”
I dressed in my best attire
To be the bell of the ball.
But when I arrived, to my surprise,
There was no party at all.
No balloons or banners were seen
Hanging beautifully on the wall,
Nor was there a bar in the room
With refreshing drinks for us all.
But in the front of the room there lay
A dark gray casket opened wide
And mourners gathered all around
With tears flowing from their eyes.
“A funeral! What a mistake!
This is no party at all,
But it’s a solemn celebration
For a soul answering her call”
“Who could that be lying there,”
In a sad, soft voice I sighed.
When I walked to view the body
I mourned a mournful cry.
It was I . . . lying quietly asleep
As if in a peaceful dream,
But when my life paraded by
I saw a ghastly scene.
My face was wrinkled and grotesque
With worms crawling through my eyes.
My hair was gray, unkempt, and wooly.
It was sad to see how I lived and died
I never thought of this before,
But to our funeral we all must go,
And see and hear our lives replayed
Like a drama upon a stage.
When your time on earth is spent
And before you . . . your life is played,
Make sure that after you see you,
You will be proud of the choices made.