Sometimes I wonder

What comes after

I know it's not that rare of a feeling,

Stories through the ages have told about it

The Greeks and Hades,

The Christians and Heaven,

(And also Hell)

The Buddhists and Reincarnation,

And many more, lost to time and repression and apathy

I wonder if someone, somewhere, has felt like me

When they considered the possibility of nonexistence

Of just not thinking, not feeling

Becoming just another set of bones for some future archeologist to dig up 1,000 years from now

It doesn't matter, and it matters a whole lot.

Because if I'm not alone

(No matter what seems to be true in this small town of mine)

Then maybe, just maybe, we could meet each other when we are just dust and imprints of what once was among the earth

And talk about what experienced when we were alive

And maybe, maybe, we would exist, even if just to each other.