There are stories
Beyond any physics,
Unreachable by current logic,
And the sustaining intuition
Can no longer make sense
Of a world lacking reality
Or lacking separability.

Lines are only imagined
And imagination is now protagonist.
They now came true.
The ideal turned to reality
At the same time
We lost the capacity
To create the sublime:
Our dreams came true
And now we can't dream no more.

To be or not to be?
Where to be?
Why to be?
All of it matter,
But they are not required
To answer the most important question:
How to be?

We would be so naive
If we are satisfied
With descriptions,
Functions of time and space.
We answer what things are
Or we answer nothing,
And the world is still a huge meaningless mystery.

I am.
That is important,
But what I will be
Needs so much more.