Do we breathe because we're alive or are we alive because we breathe?
Are we emaciated little souls crouching by the sidewalks, ravenous and rapacious
for all eternity;
or are we machines that come to life when certain parts are well-oiled,
when we are fed scraps of metal and when certain buttons are pushed
at certain intervals of time?
Bite down hard on truth:
is it alive and moving? is it dead?
is it really thin air and that we've been imagining it all along?
does it taste of clarity or complexity, luminescence or the eternal abyss?
And if it exists, where do we find it?