Afterlife - A Sonnet
O Lord, some say you don't exist at all,
That all things visible, and more besides,
Once sprang from nothing, with no word from you.
I don't believe that for an instant's time.
Nor do I think that you created us
To live for just a fleeting span of time
To witness just the middle of a yet
Unfinished drama, with uncertain knowledge
Of the past, and less of what's to come.
But no, this cannot be; you surely have
Much more in store for us than such a bleak
Existence, without purpose, point or meaning.
And — down deep, I also must confess
I'm curious — what's the ending of the tale?