Things exist, or so they say,
And don't just spend time making hay,
While rivers flow and the breezes blow,
And flowers writhe and the bees just follow ...
Could what exists and what does not
Change depending whose speaking about
The moment to moment and eye to eye
Sensations flitting about like butterflies?
Existence seems to be a patchwork cloth,
The crazy quilt each mind's knitted of,
Outside, inside, you and me:
Illusions of DramaticIdentity?
But closer still, is there conspiracy
Among all the things we seem to see?
Particles wave and waves correlate
So QuantumTheory makes a fool of fate.
But get hung up on what exists and don't
And superstition that's finely honed,
Debates, inflates, rewrites and borrows,
A million stories, names and ritual hallow.
And then what underpins a story's language
When language carries about so much baggage?
A mutual agreement might be the last defence
Of existence of that thing we call existence.