The necessity of life after death

There you lie in your final days
In a shroud of whisperéd prayers.
Now they seek to ease your spirit's pain,
But the remedy is not theirs.
As you stare at this gaping void,
You sense the end of your Self.
You catch your breath and then you bind your fears
Against a time of absolute Naught.
This cannot be the truth.
I refuse to believe.
Seek to escape
This rotting flesh
And justify your fears.
You know this is
Not to be true,
But reality fails on believing ears.
You seek the womb
Of comfortable lies.
Folds of reality
Crush you from inside.
So enfold yourself in a world of
A blissful hypocrisy.
To deny and then to believe
Shall truly set you free