Somebody asked me, “What will be
After this life, what shall I see?
Am I then merely pure essence?
Or does my life still make some sense?
Where is my past, is it all gone?
Or do I still feel what’s my own?
Without my body, who am I?
What really happens when I die?
Who’s got the answers, the reply?”
My friend, now I feel rather shy
Since, indeed, I once was near to death
For some time been sheer out of breath
Before I had a lot of pain
But suddenly there was no chain
To hold me back in this frail body
Which I thought to be only shoddy
I swiftly was pulled all out of me
But still had a body I could see
That body, yet, it felt no aches
Was perfect, weightless, without brakes