Five organs, for things like taste and vision
And the mind, for internal cognition
Is this entire world contained inside me
Or am I a small particle of all that I don’t even see
What I hear depends on my concentration
Yet I can’t escape the noise in a crowded station
Voices and noises, are they all in my head
Will sound cease to exist once I’m dead?
My nostrils respond to the smell of oil
But not to a fragrance that’s far away
I can smell the freshness of the soil
But nothing that's buried under clay
My eyes see a paper torn asunder
And my mind does indeed wonder
In life do I see confusion,
Because it’s all just an illusion?
Am I the infinite, or am I a decimal
Either the absolute, or the infinitesimal
My limited perception is a paradox
Or maybe the unperceived is in my little box
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