This could, of course, be my last day on Earth
Or anywhere, for all I surely know,
A thought that makes me ponder on the worth
Of what I’ve done and where I’ve yet to go,
And whether if, indeed, there’s more to come
Beyond the veil of death—another round,
Another realm—a mystery I can’t plumb,
About which many theories abound.
Why not choose one and live pragmythically,
As if what I most hope for is the case,
Simply supposing what appeals to me
Is that which generates the greatest grace?
I thus declare that in the great Beyond
We shall transcend what here we call Despond.