About that process that began
With nothingness to what we see,
Through the chaos that ensued,
Resulting in both me and you.
If it was chance, how strange it is,
That it created happy ends
To leave us with our lives intact
With loving families and our friends.

But some old men seem to agree
That there is no “Reality”:
“All we touch and think we see
Is simply just illusory.”
They simulate what they can’t see
Creating vast infinities,
Which tinkered with by clever folk,
Told them there is naught to see.
Yet how they know I cannot tell,
For many things that I have tried,
Like beauty, love, and poetry
I know cannot be quantified.

Even Einstein wasn’t sure,
Hoping that the moon was there,
Whether it was shining bright
Or left unseen on darkest nights;

And because most lovers use its light
To recognize the other’s face,
I think for him it was enough,
To know the Truths of Love and Fate.

“Real” is what we can share
With others who can ratify
That our acts have shaped their lives
Thereby proving false the lie
That we are less than whispered sighs.

So it is, with G‑d and us;
As He has made a space for us
Bestowing wisdom to perceive
That there is value to our lives.

Without those values who are we?
Just animals or mere machines.
That only act, without a thought,
By instinct or some program bought-
A robot less than real life,
Without a purpose to aspire.
Unsteady, lost, without a soul,
Marking time without belief,
To disappear in some black hole.

Embrace your life with faith in hand
Learn what is, you need do,
Extend your heart to those close by
And you can find the Promised Land.

- Finding the Light of G‑d, pages 31-32