What if life is simply a distraction from a boring cosmic existence,
And we are projected characters living out a contrived drama,
Actually watching our puppet selves from a galactic distance?

According to scripture, the world at creation was without form and void,
But are we really sure that it was ever formed at all–except in our extraterrestrial imaginations?

Thoughts like this keep some of us awake at night,
Some of us, but not me,
Because, if I don’t really exist in this three-dimensional hallucination, who is doing the worrying?