All that is, is as but one.
At your core, you’re like the sun.
For out of star matter you both arise,
Both your light and energy fill the skies.
No more control do you have on a thought,
Than whether pink elephants appear or not.
For as you think upon all things,
Your ideas soar by as if on wings.
So do not fret over this or that,
Or worry the fate of Schrödinger’s cat,
For your worry itself is an illusion, you see?
The nature of life is not to control, but to be.