Sometimes I wonder what happens when we die.

Is there really a heaven?

Is it possible there is a second world right behind the one we see,

But humans cannot see it because they turn a blind eye to the world.

Or what if it is like Ockham’s Razor?

Do we simply not exist anymore,

No thoughts, such as the ones I'm writing at this very moment,

No feeling, hurt by being turned down by the person you liked,

Or sad because your sibling got the last piece of cake, Or ecstatic because you won the lottery.

No eating fluffy home cooked pancakes with butter and syrup on an early Saturday morning,

Or a hamburger cooked on the grill with mustard and American cheese melted to the right consistency.

No more anything.

What if we get reincarnated? What if it is based purely on how we morally lived?

So every time you saw that homeless man and passed by when you could have given him even just a couple of dollars,

Or turning another blind eye to a separate call for help,

Or choosing a screen over your family, with little to no interaction daily,

Could affect what happens when we die.

But what if none of life truly matters,

These words, This paper, This pen.

Because what if the point of life is to be ready to die at any given moment,

And making the most of the life you have left.

I do not know what happens when we die but I know what happens while we live,

Humans neglecting one another, Humans loving and caring for one another,

Humans eating, Humans starving,

Humans who live in luxury hoarding money, Humans who live paycheck to paycheck, still making room to give money to charity.

The Ying and Yang of this universe and at the center of us all,

Is the ever looming presence of death.