In my desire to understand,
I have questioned everything
out of existence.
The very essence
of my being
has become a flickering thing
struggling to remain present.

All passions, pains, and pleasant
memories
are just flutterings
from a dying butterfly’s wings,
fading faster than I can react.

We could be just a dream,
or a simulation within
another very well written
simulation, ad infinitum.

I think therefore I am,
and I am certain that I can,
at least I think I think
or are all thoughts merely
unrestrained subconscious
reactions that become conscious.

So, what more can I expect of you
because in my pursuit
of knowledge
I cannot say for certain if I exist
and in that strange context
I have questioned you
right out of existence
as well.