So, here’s a problem we’ll all face,
That is our death, both time and place,
And then, what happens after that,
From beggar to aristocrat.

We all know there is some debate,
Like, resurrect, reincarnate,
Or maybe we are simply done
And, what is done can’t be undone.

The Christians think that Jesus rose;
That’s how the Bible story goes.
But no one else, since way back then,
Has managed to do that again.

Reincarnation, some believe
Means death is not a cause to grieve,
Unless you come back as a slug
Because you were a slimy thug.

But, when they toll our final bell,
If there’s no heaven and no hell,
Then, this is all that’s really true:
Your death means you’re completely through.

Emergence of biology,
Four billion years of history,
Some lives a blessing; some a curse.
Then comes the final judge of worth.

No heaven’s ecstasy, hell’s pain,
Just memories of you remain.
So live, so when you’re ‘neath the sod,
Most folks won’t simply say, “Thank God.”