Apparently Lost Poem by Tom Fox

What evidence or certainty do we have at all,
Regarding after life, the truth and when it calls?
Yes, and what is more is if to know there's more to gain,
For if I die and go to Hell, I doubt a spirit feels pain.
Or if the Pearly Gates is where I shall be headed,
Tell me now, what spirit cares if streets are gold embedded?
And then, of course, what of the source that says I'll be reset?
Could it be, a tiny flea could return as an egret?
It seems as but a stretch from our sweet imagination
And it feels as but a sponge that avoids all validation.
And if it's true that we use a small percentage of our brain,
Why can't it be that what we think we know now is insane?
Is it disturbing when one questions what he or she has learned,
When as a kid, lies from your folks felt as though they burned?
And told for what, subordination, and if so, than for whom?
Big brother, mom and dad, myself, God, or Dr. Doom?
Could there be a way to recognize a common goal,
A unanimous decision, that would overflow the hole?
I wish deeply that the day of understanding will arrive.
More-so, I hope it comes and stays while I am still alive.