in fine, infinity

I can't wait to be done with this life
to start a new adventure,
but surely there's nothing after
this life, because why else would we die
only to continue living?
In the end, infinity!
Unconscious for the dead,
and perhaps for those who come after, through science,
conscious.



Poetry by Albert Vynckier The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2025-03-05 at 03:04

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IB M The PoetBay support member heart!
je ne peux pas dire que je crois à une forme de vie après la mort... je ne sais trop quoi me faire comme idée là-dessus non plus ... ça me semble bizarre, I guess... j'aime la question que tu poses, indeed, pourquoi mourir pour continuer de vivre dans ce cas... comme d'habitude, toujours intéressant... merci.
2025-03-05


Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
What an interesting poem. Thanks for sharing and giving us this thought provoking read.

I don't look upon death as being an end, for me it is merely a transformation, a change. The whole of the known Universe is in a constant state of change and transformation, why shouldn't we be. The real conundrum I feel concerns the consciousness: Is that constant so that we can be aware of our own changing, or is it transitory? I at least hope for the former. :o)
Blessings, Allen
2025-03-05