DEATH—THE FINAL FRONTIER
Not space, but death, will be our last frontier
And always has been since we’ve known we’d die,
As poets like sage Homer and Shakespeare
Have sung, in epic or in lullaby.
That bourn from whence no traveler returns
Except as dubious specters in our minds
Remains mysterious and all query spurns
Of scientific and empiric kinds.
Perhaps, then, there’s another way to seek
The secret heart of such an ancient quest,
Transcending knowing at the very peak
Of consciousness, where certainty’s possessed:
Such mystic, cosmic consciousness makes clear
That nothing’s lost and all shall reappear.