Questions and Questions and Future Deathbeds

On my deathbed, will someone know me? Like nobody else, someone who chose me. Will I have another half, holding my hand? From now until then, will it hurt more, or will it hurt less? Will I hide from thunder, or take a chance and get wet? Is the answer in my head, or blowing in the wind? Will someone know me like nobody knows me someone who chose me holding my hand while I'm on my deathbed? The light of my life, or dust in the wind? I can ask, I can wait, I can stand at start. From now until then, I hope I don't starve, waiting for life to begin.