Here are some lines from Manuel Acuna's "Before a Corpse":
...for out of nothingness we are not born,
and into nothingness we do not die.
Existence is a circle, and we err
when we assign it for measurement
the limits of the cradle and the grave.
The grave holds nothing but a skeleton;
and life within this mortuary vault
continues secretly to find its substance.
Beautiful, isn't it? The entire poem can be found here.
For whatever reason, it reminds me of John Donne's "Death Be Not Proud."