Nothing is real.
Everything is just an observation,
And an interpretation,
By our fallible senses,
And our mysterious thoughts.
We all of us are blinded,
By some pride or prejudice,
Keeping us from realizing
Everything is an intuition,
Or an expectation.
And we may discover the edge of time,
And traverse to Andromeda,
Record the naked singularity,
And raze the universe with our power,
But, still, nothing will be real,
Till we realize this brain,
That poses these questions, and laughs,
Because the answer is wrapped in a case,
Of stronger will than a black hole.
Those few that got close,
Were sucked in and dissolved.
We could not recover them fully.
And yet this devil, this God,
Stands adamant and unsolved.