Will There Be No End? Poem by Josh Mitteldorf

Will there be no end
(to these sonnets on immortality) ?

Now and then it flashes through:
A feeling I know well from youth
Perhaps it holds a primal clue
Concerning body, soul and truth.

It's clear to me my thoughts are real
But body seems like ‘not my own'
And at these times I fain to feel
my physicality on loan.

So, is this primal knowledge -
Kant's synthetic a priori?
Else is it imagined follage
Torn from page of mythic story?

We know not 'til we may tell none -
Else life could never be such fun!