|Paradiso by Gustave Doré|
Some said there was one and others many;
Now I depart this world, I still wouldn’t believe.
It wasn’t long, there was no wait.
I wondered how and about the rituals we make.
But there were no cues, no queues, suppose I needn’t wait.
I stood there, confounded, for a voice, a sign.
Do I enter, would I transgress, what difference doth it make?
Never for one was I, before today, to believe in a voice or a sign.
A voice yonder, perhaps many, command(s) me, “Stop, there, son.
Life awaits, but you are not ready yet. You've wandered many years.
So tell me now, did you like purgatory young one?”