Leaving

Where in the world do sick people go,
When illness takes them away.
Their body's still breathing, but they don't know you're there,
And they can't hear a word that you say.


It's so sad for the family who tries to hold on,
To the loved one that they hold so dear,
But how can their spirit be so far away,
When their body is laying right here.


Is there a small heaven, where sick people go,
When they're not quite ready to die.
A place where preparations are made,
Before a return for goodbye's.


How can it be possible that we know so much,
Of the universe and life as a whole,
And still never know the in's and the out's,
Of the place saved for wandering souls.