I've heard it postulated that the universe is all a dream,
A reality that's simulated, a stage on which we play,
And if that's true and all our lives are made up on the fly,
I salute the mega-mind behind this wondrous simulacrum,
So rich and fine in its details, so wide and deep, a grand design,
And glad am I to be a cog in such a great construction,
A ghost in that machine, delighted with my made-up world,
With all its ups and downs and its many highs and lows,
How thoughtfully provided, full of glorious surprises,
That makes me happy just to be alive, in my simulated life.
Note: I posted this poem some months back, but with the inclusion of the recital I'm hoping the community finds some additional value. Thanks for reading and perhaps listening.