A poem about questions of existence …
photo credit: chrstphre 3 Streams(o via photopin(license)
Do I exist, am I real?
Is there evidence I feel?
Is there ice in my veins?
If you cut me will I cry,
If you starve me will I die?
Do I thirst for the pain,
Do I yearn for the chance,
For the music, the dance.
Will I wither without the rains,
Will I ever leave this cell?
Am I already in hell?
Am I going sane;
Will you see me home again?
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 
Sounds like an existential crisis you’re having, but, don’t worry, eventually, you will, get your self, back out again…
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Thank you
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Poignant questions, friend.
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Thank you, if only I knew the answer
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I’m pretty sure we exist and are conscious, though these questions would be hard to answer if they came from an advanced AI in 50 years or so.
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In 50 years the AI’s might be making those decisions about us …
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I think the variance between predictions, of when we’ll develop AI is so big that it could very well be the case or it could even be the case that we’ll look back at AI predictions like we do now on some of the early sci-fi.
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