If we can create for ourselves
A living hell in this life.
Then it only makes sense
That the hell that we create might continue
If the blackness of our hearts is real
And not imagined.
And if our conscience pricks us here
When our eyes are dimmed
By deceitful outward appearances,
Then the same conscience might prick us there
When the falsehood of our outer shell is stripped away,
And all the more if we see more clearly there.
We don’t see clearly here,
And that’s the problem.
Our conscience can be seared.
We can sin without regret.
All the more reason
To face the inward contradictions
Before we discover too late
That what we sowed in life
Follows us into eternity.
