top of page


Death came.

The last exhilaration of a breath released, invited Death.  When it rode beyond the empty husk of the body it wasn’t alone.  As if Death was the driver of a taxi, its passenger moved along, lifted on that last breath.  The ghost in the biological machine, the soul lifted beyond the corporeal.

Almost instantly it traveled, departing Death’s embrace, it was beyond all control, all manipulation; save for one.  its business of testing the scales of karma.  Every essence needed to be appraised the life once lived.  Upon release all the lives, the corporeal connectors, became open, available.  There is no unknown at this point, at least to what humans call the mysteries of life.  The only thing lacking is the experience living gives a soul, like a lush banquet it nourishes it.

This soul entered a new realm, similar to lighting in a bottle; energy exuded from the central essence.  It sat alone, but that doesn’t matter, though it inhabits this realm with no other souls, for each has its own space to mend itself after living, all the previous lives; memories, act like companions, mentors for the essence to use to grow its nourishing experiences.

With the release of mortal concepts that cloud ethereal knowledge, the soul can consider its most previous life.  Time in nonexistent to it.  a single minute is just as unimportant as a decade or even a century.  So many things that mattered at one point no longer held notice.

The soul knew of gender, yet had it been male or female?  It had been both throughout its existence.  Nobody made the point mute.  Had it led a good life?  Had it perhaps instead done evil?  Karma accrued throughout its mortal existence, judged those concepts.  It used them as a metaphysical blueprint to its existed path.

Now the two concepts had little definition.  Physical needs were of no consequence, as easily overlooked now as if they were paper burnt to ash, scattered upon the wind.  Yet balance was required.  A soul’s hue was determined by its life, by its deeds.

Three threads of energy extended beyond the essence.  They traveled the length of the lives lived.  One filled with a radiating white light.  Its brilliance would blind any mortal eye.  The suspended lightning strike represented the good.  The best that the soul exhibited during all its existence in many forms.

A dark streak led off revealing the worse attributes and exhibitions of previous lives.  This line was shorter then the bright glimmering thread.  Length was again a human concept, so there was no exact comparison, yet the essence knew in its own way that one ran longer than the other.

The third trail aided its knowledge of its karmic balance.  It pulsed gray, a lighter shade closer to polished steel.  With each introduction of a light or dark impulse the helixed line either lightened further or darkened.  Leading to its inevitable solidification into a corporeal being once again.

bottom of page