Hope, and All-That-Is

I've always wondered, just who I am,
And my purpose here on Earth.
Did I exist sometime before,
Or was I born at birth?
Will I achieve great things in life,
Remembered through the years.
Or will I fade, like Winter mist,
Into a world of fears?

Will I make a mark upon,
The pages of history?
What is worse, igominy,
Or infamy?
Should I do whatever it takes,
To stand out from the crowd?
Or should I leave this earthly stage,
With a respectful bow?

After I die, what's there to do,
What's there left to be?
Is there a Heaven, or a Hell?
What happens to you or me?
Do we rush to the kind embrace,
Of a benevolent deity?
Or is life cast aside, an empty husk,
A life full of wasted piety?

But no matter what, there still lies a hope,
A hope that stands true and tall.
The hope that there is something else,
And we should heed its call.
A hope that death is not the end,
And is in fact a stone.
Across the river of All-That-Is,
And we won't travel alone.