Charade

Charade

Is there death after life,
will we be free from strife
or open some unknown door?
Will rest come to me,
can death set me free
to rest upon a new shore?

Is there death after life,
or some wicked device
designed to cause us more pain?
Is the cycle complete
with sleep our retreat,
will sorrow or happiness reign?

Is there death after life,
cessation of light,
will we walk upon streets of gold?
Must we lie in our grave
unless we are saved
and never the wonders behold?

These questions you see
they always haunt me,
unanswered until the end.
Is there life after death
of great scope and breadth,
will we fall or will we ascend?

If I may be bold,
do we have a soul,
or is it a story we've read?
Will our final sleep
be permanent and deep,
or our souls arise from the dead?

These questions unanswered,
like long legged dancers,
in the chorus line on life's stage.
They dance and they swirl
like a strip-teasing girl,
whose offer is all a charade!