Virtual Poem by John Prophet

Some say
we live
in a
virtual world.
A matrix.
Our
existence,
digital.
What does
that mean?
We're not
real?
We're
not
alive?
I think
therefore
I'm not?
How real
is real?
If virtual
here,
potentially
virtual
anywhere?
If virtual,
virtual
forever?
Life
after death?
Digital rebirth
elsewhere?
Free will
a digital
trick,
a mirage.
Programed?
It's all
programed?
Everything is
fixed.
Searching,
searching for
the meaning of
existence.
Possibly
no meaning
at all!