The Lobby of the Afterlife

During the infinitesimal moment that precedes death,
you watch in confusion
as you are released from the confines and limitations of the vehicle that a only a few moments earlier was your body.
Just as a metallic red helium balloon,
complete with trailing white string
is liberated into the atmosphere
by a sobbing infant,
you depart also.

Your expected tunnel of blackness
and the minute pin-prick of shimmering light growing nearer, larger
is nowhere to be seen.

Under your feet is a humid landscape of damp grey concrete
under a blinding white sky.
Rusted iron girders, interspersed by weathered stone pillars
rise up in all directions.
They run in ranks and files
from the wet footprints of your well worn shoes
to meet the horizon line.
And although you stand perfectly still,
there is an unmistakable and certain sensation of travelling onward.

And now the hazy silhouette of a small crowd can be seen in the distance.
The faces of those you have known
and others who swam in your gene pool at another time,
wait to greet you,
in the tastefully furnished lobby of the afterlife.