Classic Poem

An eternity of days and nights,
Shall be ours in the afterlife,
And freely shall it be our right,
But not without a certain price.

A price is paid, in memories,
Of how life was, and could have been,
Viewed once before, then forever after,
Before in sorrow and in laughter.

After this we pay a price,
Review our lives here more than twice.
Longing so that, while living,
We had shared the more our giving.

For naught else can we but receive,
The passages of memory,
And ever though we thus complain,
We have no chance to give again.