If, like this wingèd thing, you suddenly found out
you were a figment of someone’s imagination,
would you believe that you exist? Would you insist
you were a fake? If you could make a figment
of your own imagination come to life, would you
be tempted to believe that you were God? Is God
whatever conjured up the being whom you think
you know as you? Should you implore it or ignore it?
Are you a random calculation that went wrong?
Were you discarded? How long do discards last?
Will you live an instant or forever? Or were you
never here at all? Will you fall, Guy? Perhaps
you are the designated fallguy. Hard to tell now
that the only thing you know is that some business
took upon itself your being here. Or are you
just a figment of your own imagination? Do you
account for everythimg you’re seeing here?
That might be best. Perhaps then you could rest.
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