Inside the Coffin

The other night, after loosing my lil family, I laid in bed alone.
I was in my house alone. Much of my furniture and belongings were gone.
Pictures of a marriage dead and decayed were packed in boxes headed to the dump.
As I layed there I experienced a deep inner silence and felt as nothing inside enormous nothingness.
It was, however, a nothingness that was someone.
And I thought how ugly it would be to be inside a totally dark coffin buried deep in the cold ground.
The nothingness let me know, unexplicably, that my eyes would not work to be able to see the darkness nor would my mind work to remember what darkness or any other word for that matter meant.
I thought how ugly the sound of worms eating me would be and then was informed that my ears would not work to hear.
And then in a flash I knew that none of any thing painful would be painful because my body would not work anymore. I would not be able to sense in the way that I had become accustomed to sense the world I lived in because now I was dead and would have to experience in a whole new way.
And this brought me peace because I realized I would never be hungry without a stomach, nor would I have reason to work, nor reason to be ashamed or belittled or less than other comtemporary successes...we would all be dead. Besides, in the depth of Gods nothingness I lacked nothing or anybody. I was completely and satisfactorily in God.