We’re wrong and we know we’re wrong.
We’re wrong and we don’t know why.
What is real in the absence
Of observers, observers
Who care, deeply, what is real?
What is this thing, this notion
That we have labeled
For knowing, the real?
How is it so distinguished
That it lets us know we’re wrong?
If nothing is more real, or
Nothing is more or less real,
Can we know? Can we be wrong?
We’re only sure something’s wrong.