What happens when you die? A poetic inquiry

Take a ride in Emily Dickinson's chariot.

But beware... there's no turning back.

"Because I could not stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us – The Dews drew quivering and Chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity –