If I wasn't a Muslim and didn't know about Resurrection beyond death, I'd have prolly believed -believed strongly, in reincarnation.
Endless loops of lives in different bodies; in different epochs, different loves, different promises, different fates, different memories, different dreams, different deaths, different regrets, different legacies.
Everything is forgotten; thrown to the back yard of our minds, though our cells remember.
Everything is forgiven; we are born with bitterness at the tips of our tongues, crying over the past lives we've had, and the prospect of a life ahead; and the eternity of it all.

Perhaps the light at the end of the tunnel is the light that bathes our souls as we emerge from the birth squeeze.

Stop for a minute and think about how this makes you feel : You've been everywhere, and we've all met one another at some point; at some time; in one life you were lovers; in the next you are blood enemies; you have married and your child has father you with her incarnation;
Yet you are they; and they are you; they had your life; and you are living theirs; pieces of your own are mixed with the dust and their bones, scratches away like rust in your grave then vehemently born out of someone's womb, sometime; in the past, or in the future.

You are an immortal; but your lives bear no weight.

And you could remember for a split second upon laying your eyes on a stranger; the moment your life and their intertwined in the past; a passing whiff of a scent, the echo of their whispers, a ringing line, an ancient smile, the rhythm of their heartbeat, the color of their flames.

You remember. 
You remember that we met; but never when and where. 

And we come to fall in love with the ones that we couldn't forget.