Poems about Reincarnation

I wrote the first version of this poem over the course of about four months, beginning shortly after I did indeed hear a preacher tell a young woman that those who come to Jesus never have to die. I did indeed think of the line quoted with is from the trailer for the movie "Electra." I like the line, but never saw the movie.

“I’ve died before,” a character whispered
In an old film trailer. “It’s not that bad.”
I never saw the film, but I thought of
That line when once I heard a preacher say
That those who come to Jesus never die.

Well, death always finds us unprepared,
Always saying “Not yet, there’s still so much
“I need to do in this shape, in this world.”
And – yes – it hurts, always, always, and then
Darkness, light, the struggle to the Mother.

But to never die? To stay always stuck
In one reality, no hope to change
The foolishness of this life’s yesterdays
For a new birth’s new hope on new earth?
Nothing but obeisance in some God’s cold halls?

I’d just as soon blink out like a spent bulb,
And, come some death, that I may choose, but not
This time around, nor yet, I think, the next.
There’s too much yet to be tasted and touched,
Many songs unsung, so much still to be done.

The Gods require of us only beauty,
Rich embroidery on time’s tapestry.
Thus, orbiting from life through death to life,
Spirits, bound by a strange attractor, shape
The rose of force and fire. Hast ‘ou seen it?*

There’s no salvation in bending a knee.
Your perfection’s the work of many lives,
Going deeper, brighter, hotter into
What Might Be in the undying dance of
Creation that even the Gods envy.

I asked my most reliable friend and critic for an opinion and she noticed several points that were either clumsy or vague. I agreed with her criticisms but couldn't seem to resolve them and keep the formal structure of the poem. So, I rewrote the whole thing in a night and produced this:

I’ve died before,” I didn’t say. “It’s not that bad.”
Those are lines from a bad old movie, but
They came to me when I heard the preacher
Tell you that those who kneel to Jesus never die.

It’s true dying always seems to come upon us
Not ready, saying “There’s still so much
I could do with this world.” And – yes – it hurts
Always, then comes the hard night trek back toward the Mother.

But do you truly want to stay forever stuck
In one face, one world, with no hope to change
The foolishness of this life’s yesterdays
For a new birth’s new hope on a new earth? Nothing

Left but groveling in some god’s cold halls?
I’d just as soon blink out like a spent bulb,
And, come some death, I’ll make that choice, but not
This time around, nor yet, I think, the next. The Gods

Require of us little but beauty: thus, spirits,
Orbiting from life through death to life,
Bound to that strange attractor, time’s womb, weave
A mighty rose of force and fire. Hast ‘ou seen it?

This is a destiny you won’t find on your knees.
Your perfection’s the work of many lives,
Going deeper, brighter, hotter into
What Might Be, the undying dance of Creation.

That was three months ago, and I've been dithering ever since. I'm not really satisfied with either version, but here they both are. Any opinions are welcome.