Wednesday, June 22, 2016


                      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.