What are the limits of existence? Does time prescribe that boundary?
Or does the immensity of physical space surrounding pose a quandary?
Our being seems to be limited by the material trammels of space-time
And we are content to live within its embrace, counting ring chimes
Our focus is on lower knowledge, of matter and mind, nebulous wisps
We have created arbitrary walls of doubtful kind, tricky intellect's trips
Faced constantly with inconsistent conclusions from such weak premise
Our lives are spent working out solutions to problems that thus arise
We dived into a world infinitesimal and saw matter dissolve indistinct
Our leap into infinite space has shown us nebulae, equally implicit
The very foundations of our lives are based on an uncertainty principle
Where a transition from particle to wave happens, subtle and invisible
The Universe is put together and taken apart in infinite periodic cycles
Our minds give it structure thus making the world subjective and fickle
Catching this flickering illusion in its moments between rise and cease
Truth reveals itself, from its quite concealment, providing final release
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