ROUND AND ROUND
I like to think that when I die I’ll go
Not out, as candles do, but simply on
Into another realm we cannot know
Till then, but only speculate upon.
That we are here, conscious and animate,
Already proves something miraculous
Invests the universe that may well let
Us live without a temporal terminus.
The mystery of existence is so vast
Our sciences have only just begun
To fathom such conundrums, but at last
May ferret out what stays when life is done:
What essence still survives some other way
That may appear again another day.