Poetry – Reality – Are we real or is the universe meaningless?

I like to play around with philosophy. It’s all a dream. We are the stuff of stars.

The way physics is going these days it is impossible to understand which is the stranger – life, dreams or reality?

I’ll take my chance with science. You can verify it. The maths doesn’t lie.

The incredible odds against you being born is enormous. The chances of us surviving are slim.

Life is wonderful. The universe is spectacular. Atoms are pretty good too.

Reality is no more than a partial understanding of things that are not as they appear. If only I had a few more senses I might understand it a bit more.

No – it’s definitely a dream.


One and one can be three

As an inch contains infinity

Time unfurls but

What will tomorrow be

When you can’t tell dreams from reality?


Life could have a purpose

Or the universe could be chance

I was formed from a big bang

Of love in a cosmic dance


We’re all made of star dust

Drifting through space

But our dreams

Are made of ideas

Drawn through the curtains

Behind my face


The stars and space

Just a passing eddy in the fabric of time

No significance

No stability

No substance left to rhyme


All of history

And every single breath

Of no more importance

That an amoeba’s death


I’m not sure what makes sense

And Jesus can’t explain it

I live within a Milky Way

Sprayed through some cosmic wit


Someday soon I’ll die

Will the universe still exist?

Does it fall if no-ones there

When a tree topples in the forest?


Opher 23.2.97

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