Lonely Philosophy

As I’m driving my car down the street

Pulling a piece of crisp toast from the toaster

Greeting a friend at the checkout stand

Sinking into my cool pillow late at night

Flipping through a stained magazine

Trekking up a white mountain ridge

 

I’m wondering

 

Is this real life?

Who am I?

Am I me?

Am I real?

Am I alive?

How did I come to be?

 

Perhaps I’m just a buzzing chunk of atoms

An arbitrary connection of nerves

Bundles of tissue and marrow and germs

But I think and feel and I love, damn it

Isn’t that worth something to the universe?

What is the universe exactly, and why

Has outer space been explored further

Than the sea? We’re such magnificent creatures,

And we’re all so lonely.

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