Is reality mostly empty space?
Or all our experiences in this place?
A fleeting smile on a loved ones face,
That disappears without a trace?

By what scale do we measure?
Is it our pain and our pleasure?
What we trash and what we treasure?
What we do for fun or leisure?

In our agony or our ******,
Do we think that we can see,
What is truly meant to be?
And are we really, truly free?

All the places we must go,
Is it only just a show?
And all the things that we must know,
Do they truly help us grow?

Do we simply live and die?
Do we ever truly fly?
In the end you can only try.
Just keep looking to the sky.