To Your ‘Paradise’ I Just Don’t Want to Go

You hope to go to what you call ‘Paradise’ one day.

It’s only for those who believe like you, you say.

That’s why you tell me to believe as you do,

Otherwise, you threaten, after I die I’ll badly rue.

You say, “What a grand place Paradise is,

Something you just can’t afford to miss!

If you get to Paradise, you’ll have eternal gain,

But if you don’t, you’ll face Hell’s eternal pain.”

You pine for your ‘Paradise’’s supposed treasures,

For what you regard as its most enticing pleasures.

All this, you claim, will for those folks await

For whom ‘Paradise’ has been decreed as their fate,

And there to reside for all time to come:

A chosen few, you say, of all people only some.

You describe your ‘Paradise’ in great detail,

Exhorting, “Strive to get there without fail.”

But, dear friend, I want you to know

That to this place I just don’t want to go.

Why this is so, please allow me now to explain,

I’ll try to do this in a manner simple and plain.

In ‘Paradise’ you say, there’ll be great sensual pleasure,

In great abundance, and beyond all measure.

There’ll be, you claim, the tastiest wine,

And delicious meats on which daily to dine.

But this, my friend, holds no charm for me:

For one thing, I don’t like wine, you see.

And as for food, I prefer ordinary bread,

And soup, salad and vegetables instead.

Meat and wine, I must say, I don’t consume,

They’re bad for us—you know this, I presume.

In ‘Paradise’, you say, there’ll be rivers of milk and honey

(Are you joking, my dear? It sounds so very funny!).

There, you say, there’ll be streets of gold,

With its inhabitants wallowing in luxury untold,

Each owning a palace of humungous size,

Supposedly given them by God as a prize.

There, you say, God to each person will send

A vast retinue of servants, upon them to attend,

Faithfully obeying their every command,

And eagerly doing all that they demand.

These promises, my dear, don’t move me at all,

So, for these blandishments I just won’t fall.

I’m happy to live in a cottage that’s small,

What’ll I do with a palace, huge and tall?

Managing such a place would be a great strain,

Surely, a cottage would be easier to maintain!

And as for being served by many a servant,

You know I’m a champion most fervent

Of social equality, and also of fraternity,

And so, I’d regard this as sheer perversity.

Having many servants you might think fine and well,

But for the servants themselves, surely, it’d be Hell!

You say in your 'Paradise' that men will enjoy

Dazzling nymphs, like some titillating toy,

“Oh”, you exclaim, “what a wonderful delight

These ethereal beauties would be to the sight!”

You say men in your Paradise can with them play

Just as they please, all through the day,

And that of doing this they will never tire,

With their fierce libidos being ever on fire.

Now, these ‘nymphic’ delights you speak of,

At the very idea of this I can’t help but scoff!

For the so-called nymphs I’d have no work,

In fact, they might drive me berserk,

Trying to entice me with their seductive allure,

And that, too, in a realm meant to be pure!

Their sexual advances I’d flatly refuse,

For them, I’d have absolutely no use.

They’d be for me not a blessing but a bane,

Honestly, I’d find them an intolerable pain.

 If in your ‘Paradise’ they’re forced on me,

At once from there I’d seek to flee,

And to the Good Lord I will then go and tell,

“Much better than this ‘Heaven’ must be Hell.

I’d rather be sent there, Loving Lord dear,

Than stay a moment more in this ‘Paradise’, here.”

I’d like to ask you this as I begin to conclude,

I hope you don’t think that I’m being rude,

But this place you obsess about, this so-called ‘Paradise’,

Does it actually exist, or is it just a pack of nasty lies?

Is it mere fiction, or is it really for true?

None knows for sure—admit it!—not even you!

It’s time now to conclude, my friend,

I have to be honest, I just can’t pretend,

I must tell you this, and I hope you understand,

Even though you mightn’t agree with my stand:

Your ‘Paradise’ just isn’t a place I want to go,

I’d be unhappy there, really very much so.

I’d soon tire of such a place, I fear,

I’ve explained to you why, my dear.

In your ‘Paradise’ I wouldn’t want to stay

Much more than just a single day.

It isn’t a realm where I would like to be,

Certainly not where I want to spend eternity.

There’s yet another thing that I want to say.

Please consider it, my dear—I hope you may:

The sort of ‘Paradise’ about which you insist

I intuitively feel simply does not exist.

Use, my friend, your God-given perception

And see clearly through the dark deception.

Abandon the illusion, realizing it isn’t true.

The sooner you do this, the better for you.