I’m not sure if it means anything:

Existential crisis was
written on the egg.
I cry sis. Sis is tense. She has
no shawl. Where is my shawl?
she cries. Perhaps her shawl is
partial by now, the cat
unwound it an hour ago. The cat
in the hat? The very same, and
a top hat it is. I am no
magician, just a logician, I
cannot unravel this riddle cries she.
A crisis
I say, if the cat is in the hat,
a magician's hat will it
reveal when the hat I
repeal? Simple,
says she, by Occam's razor we
may cut a hole in the
hat and oculate inside. But
we have but Occam's hatchet
I say, and a blunt tool it is,
more liable to crush it. Let us
wait and see, cries sis
sensing an existential crisis.
This interminable solution has left
me with no determinable
resolution.