ANON

                     I like to think that when I die I’ll go
                     Not out, like a snuffed flame, but on,
                     A soul then freed from these constraints below
                     To a celestial perspective drawn,
                     From which I’ll view the whole cosmography
                     And comprehend the vastness of its scheme
                     Then understand what’s been a mystery
                     As if awakening from a lifelong dream,
                     For, surely, underlying all that is
                     There is a Source, a fundamental cause
                      Responsible for this vast genesis,
                      The architect of matter and its laws—
                           But though I’m curious to fathom that estate,
                           I’m happy now to wait and speculate.

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