What is our reality but a set of stories,
Of things, ideas, people and their glories,
A thread that we all choose to believe in,
That makes some do good and some commit sins.
Stories led to mankind’s dominance,
Through their continuity and universal resonance.
Myriad things have been possible because of folklore,
Like religion and the decimation of the beasts of yore.
Most stories are compelling figments of imagination,
That galvanize, inspire and cause division.
With captivating characters and powerful plots,
They move us and sow the seeds of thought.
I occasionally wonder—what would the world come to be,
If we didn’t have narratives with vivid imagery to see.
What would have so deeply connected humanity,
How would we have defined truth, love and vanity?
But questioning their existential validity,
Has somehow always seemed like insanity,
Because they are so ingrained in our memories,
What is our reality but a set of stories?
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