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Feb 2015
Not dualist, not monist, just somewhere in between
How do we focus on the "real world" when we ponder our very being?
Questions forever go unanswered,
So we slip them under the door mat and try to forget what we are
Mortal beings floating on a rock
Somewhere between some stars.
People know little, and they think even less
And the lonesome children dwell
In their existential crisis
It's easy to be brainwashed in this human society
Where robots pretend to feel
Where we ignore our own atomity.
And if our eyes are but two inches small,
How warped is our vision of it all?
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