Death comes to Everyman sooner or late.
You can’t change the days of the life you’ve led.
Some worry, some pray, gripped by anguish, fate.
Some scurry past problems, all in their head.
Philosophy or Art their yearnings sate.
God of the gaps brings others daily bread.
If nothing’s the end, then nothing is great.
Socrates stayed calm on life after death:
Deep sleep or society would await.
Christ died in torment, his last, living breath.
If we believe or not, our hopes abate
At the gaping grave soon filled with fresh earth.
Nature seems too real; supernature’s late.
Best live your life as if already dead.