A quantitative measure of our well being,
What cannot be explained and prevents us from seeing,
Further than the most vastness of stars,
It slows down when we’re in our cars,
What has been calculated and thought to exist,
But all along has been lost in a mist,
How we live the days of our lives from the day we are born,
Thinking about the present, past, and future makes us torn.
The riddle has been solved on many occasions,
By the fact that it all lays in our minds,
It is but a figment says many quotations,
Which helps us to forget what lays behind,
It is controllable and our perceptions are changed,
Because what is to believe is for us to arrange.
