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
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.