MY JOURNEY TO HEAVEN
MY JOURNEY TO HELL FIRE
Pitifully enough, they’ve so much spread their materialistic gospel in every city of the world to such a large extent that, millions of people now have the feeling that materialism is synonymous with salvation and godliness. They are kin to find more bible references to defend the preaching of prosperity with less effort to put the lost rich on the narrow way”, he answered.
MY INTERVIEW WITH DAMN SOUL
THE DEMONS OF TORMENT
1. A LADY IN HELL DUE TO FORNICATION
2. A YOUNG GIRL IN HELL DUE TO WITCHCRAFT
3. A WOMAN IN HELL DUE TO UNFORGIVENESS
.....For her interment: for ever with the lord! Amen; so let it be; life from the dead is in that word; tis immortality. Here in the body pent, absent from him roam yet nightly pitch my moving tent a day’s march nearer home, my father’s house on high, home of my soul , how near At times to faith’s foreseeing eye thy golden gates appear! Ah, then my spirit faints to reach the land I love, the bright inheritance of saints, Jerusalem above...!
4. A YOUNG MAN IN HELL DUE TO STEALING
5. A MUSLIM MAN IN HELL DUE TO UNBELIEF
6. A YOUNG FEMALE ABORTIONIST IN HELL
…..As unequivocal as it is, though it’s often doubted, that children born in the lap of roses often live longer than those born into poverty, so it is agreed, though controversial too, that the educated are an Island to themselves; impenetrable to the illiterate. But death has ranked both as being equal of status and judgement has warded off every class inequality. This is why the hell that inhabits a farmer offered a medical doctor accommodation too…
Roll away,ocean of hell,Please roll!Millions of souls in thee cry for pain,Faces are painted with sorrow, Beauty burnt by smoke and by heat waned.Your torture holds great men in unspeakable groan.Your tide swallows common people and many a captain.Oh hell, that detains the old, oh hell the eternal sorrow, the eternal chain.Inside you are men and women, crying in sorrow.Asking mercy to replace their pain.Why are you ceaseless oh abyss, in claiming the never-dying souls?Oh you concerned men, how ready are you to explain?Who will a sinner’s hand hold? And patiently like the saviour say,“ye must be born again”.
As I was busy rendering this poem out of heaviness of mind after Joyce’s departure, the troubled hell calmed down a bit. Every eye was red like a live coal and their voice gained volume for help. It was at that moment I saw a young girl whom I had met in the world, but I never knew she had died before then. She was exhausted.