To the Void

God’s still working on that pile,
Alfred, and you’re on it now,
Millions now on top of you,

And it’s not nearly complete,
More crying infants coming,
More nights crying every day,

But that proves nothing at all.
If the universe does end,
It will have to pile on us,

All of us having joined you
Long before, and if that end
Humans can’t not imagine

Is complete, how could we know
Ill wasn’t all to the good?