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The world is made out of nothing real,
Just acres and oceans, of what we feel,
And whirling galaxies, of airy spaces;
Whole worlds between particles, and our faces.
This world is milk, from the tears of a god
So lonely, he made a creation from thought;
Tired of the solitary way he trod,
Halfway between real and unreal, he wrought.
It started out, one instant of time,
Everything in the same spot; divine,
So now my soul's in you, and your's in me;
Find yourself in the other, that's ecstasy.
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