What is reality?
You watch movies like "The Matrix"
And read the musings of old greeks like PLato
And you wonder what is real.
The air you breathe,
The water you drink,
The food you eat.
Maybe it's all a sham.
Do you know for real?
What proof do you have?
What is proof?
Some kind of evidence that you can nod to,
And say it's a sign of this or that?
You think that paper you're reading is from trees?
And it's ink from wherever ink comes from?
Don't you find it interesting that
When it comes down to the subatomic level,
Atoms are made up mostly of empty space?
Are you free to think them,
Or is it all just a script in Act III of the play
Written by, Who Knows
And the feelings you have
Aren't they just created by chemicals and electricity?
What is your conciousness?
What is life?
Ask that big computer.
It doesn't know.
So why should I?
Don't ask me, ask them.
They don't know either
They'll just say the same thing,
"Ask someone else."
And are you really alive
Or are you just a bunch of little particles coming together by conicidence
And sparking once before snuffing themselves out,
Sot the universe can move on.
If there is one, that is.
Some people think they know what reality is.
I wonder if those people are even real.
Am I scaring you?
How do you know if you're even afraid?
What is fear?
All of this said,
The world spins madly on.
And you can't deny the fact
That SOMETHING is happening.
That's a question I'm going to leave for you.
I'm going to leave it, for you to answer yourself.
Because I don't know.
The phenomenon that we call life,
Lurches through something like time,
Why don't you look out the window,
And see where your life is headed?