First

It’s desolate here

A wide expanse of gray

There are people roaming near

I hear them whisper of the gateway

Their eyes are distant, as if they were blind

They see right through you, your soul made of glass

They know it’s here they’re eternally confined

An emptiness that they know they can never surpass

A man asks if I know the Son,

His face is white, his teeth chartreuse

He says here, there’s a place for everyone,

Your lack of faith becomes your noose

I learn its rapture we’ve been denied

Some have waited a dozen lifetimes

Doomed to suffer, though untied

Unable to help their living crimes

The people are quiet, they look content

Their voices were somber as they spoke

They tell me it’s futile to repent

A nameless sin is one you cannot revoke.