We all sort of remember deep down what God had to do to make space for us.
We are already life after death. Endless death. We were born out in a barren nest,
and the entire community of life farmed this place into earth. We farm.
We work environments into habitats and manufacture solace in the fact that some day we give our bodies back. Say thanks for all the sweet stuff. That one truth.
The question you’ve been asking everyone and everything forever.
The hard shelled and bitter seed at the base of your character:
the personality of your energy.
We will all exist after death whether we want to or not, same way you were born the first time, unprepared, without choice, devoid of responsibility destined to grow into a vessel designed to carry it. Like an infant cradled in the jaws of a lion. We will be judged.
The meal from the cub.