I love; therefore I exist.
Let’s talk existence. How do we know we really exist? Are we just living in an alternate, Matrix universe? Prove it!
The Dance of Love
Our birth's a kind of freedom from her pod.
Did Mom choose us or did we choose ourselves
and whose compulsion is it to exist:
are we some auto-replicated scream?
There is no proof beyond the clouds above
that we, imperfect, are yet free to roam
an alternating Matrix universe
connected to that power we call Love?
Our energy sustains one Architect
as he may dance us all unto the end.
As even born in flood the crab begins
to grope and claw, protect his kin ashore;
his consciousness a friend, though glitch within
through ever-changing waltz his spirit spins.