River of life

Death is infinity, A mass of unanswered questions. We are all Floating down the river of life, Unable to stop the flow, Knowing the end will come, Without knowing when. End? Or new beginning? Some travel faster, Leaving their companions Floating slowly behind. Some try to keep still, Desperately grasping At rocks on the river bank. Others swim gracefully, Confident and swift, Falsely thinking they know the end. No one can know, Until that day when the river turns to sea, And we are free.