Poems of Anthony Cavuoti
We do not die, instead we live a discontinuous existence. This life here, my body, my thoughts, memories, feelings, what I am physically, once this is over it is over. Anything else is just an allusion. When we die it is over, nothing is going to recreate us, make us again. Restore us to what we are. It is over the end. No more. End of story. Final curtain. The dirt sleep. Or is it.
Could not resonances of this life carry over to our next life, be with us in the after life, in the life betwee