What is the true meaning of death?

Why does it seem to scare us?

What's with that last, shuddering breath,

That seems to both repel and awe us.

Beyond that breath there's a world to see.

Nobody has returned to tell us what it's like.

Beyond that breath what things could be,

I've heard of angels and demons and the like.

Yet it is the only remaining ultimate unknown

I long to search its stupendous splendors.

For, beyond that threshold of broken bone,

There's knowledge, and unlimitless lore.

Perhaps beyond that door, I won't be sad.

This sadness, that's slowly making me mad.