As You Go

Probably, death would be easier
For you to deal with, if your body
Just winked out of existence with you.

It’s not so much that you have to go,
But so much of what you are remains
That your loss of you confuses you.

As it is, something goes missing, but
In most cases, the body’s still there,
And what have you lost of each other,

But the chance of ever waking up
The sleeper, pulling the body back
Together, discovering someone

Is still in there, and what does that mean?
You don’t know. You argue about it.
You define, redefine, redefine

The moment of death, swap narratives
Of gods, ghosts, the prophet ascending,
The king sleeping under the mountain,

Zombies, vampires, wer this and wer that,
Buried alive, the soul who came back.
You don’t quite believe any of it,

Nor heaven, hell, nor cryogenics,
Nor thoughts suspended in silicon,
Nor the brain communing from a vat.

You know. You all know. But you don’t know
What exactly it is that you know.
You watch, watch your bodies as you go.