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I must be mad that such intrusive

thoughts my mind confound; or be
it spirits and good wine that
rend a man spellbound? For I
fear that nothing here is what
it seems. The universe is
but a mirage full of dreams.
In truth there can be nothing real
about this place when all I see
is photons bouncing off some energy
in space, just images displayed
upon the atoms of a screen,
whilst I am but a phantom
in a shadow-weavers dream.
Yon lass with eyes that flash like Venus
on a frosty night is nothing
but a flicker in the ever
passing light. And you my friend are
but a mass of quarks and leptons
spinning crazy in their arcs.
These thoughts are but electrons in
a proton-maze of nerves where
nothing can exist until
a retina observes. When I
depart these sparks will cease to
flash within my brain. Then all I am
and was will neer be seen again.