The scene is thus:
An old man is dying.
No last-ditch, panic-stricken
conversion to a belief in an afterlife.
Just the conviction that this is all there is.
This is it. This is all.
He’s had it all.

Even as a young man,
as a child even,
he always knew,
at every moment in life,
that he had had all already.
And the only thing still to come was time.

There is nothing to be had.
How can paradise follow such a life?
From nothing can only come nothing.