Maybe we’d become zombies,
Or marked beasts hungry for an end,
Maybe we’d be happy with all lost family and friends,
Maybe we’d just be manure for trees,
Gathered with a bunch of others having silent conventions,
Maybe we’d be reincarnated
But then, that wouldn’t be an end.
At the end of it all, there’ll be no illness or lenses,
No hunger or to do lists,
We’ll either laugh or cry,
Dance in the light, or wriggle at the other tune,
Compose songs with pens or with teeth
Sit with God or with thieves,
But most of all,
All our questions will be answered.