Poem – Are We Just Mathematical Possibilities?
Are we real, or are we just mathematical possibilities?
Even the calculations are not real?
We are just possibilities in a dream of ether.
Held in substructures infinity.
Living a sequential order, in imagination.
Less real than a reflection in the mirror.
Am I a reflection in the mirror?
That makes me a reflection of a reflection.
Perhaps trapped in an infinity mirror?
Am I real?
Or am I imagined in some far of Galaxy in the future or
past?
Did you dream me?
Or did I dream you?
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