The field of consciousness.......

I would really like to know
If I am conscious

I know that I live and breathe

I am aware of my immediate surroundings

I think I am conscious because I show interest
In my small world
And in bits of the huge ball we live on

But is there a higher form of counsciousness?
And if so, where does it lead?

say what they say
conscience does not weigh
consciousness is a state
comatose and translucent
who does not suffer any
effect on the part of
gravitational pull

conscience is synonymous
to forgetfulness...

consciousness is absence
of a scapegoat
consciousness is a moment
of millimeters in opening
of the blinds

it's the face in the dark
the shadow behind the curtain
the unknown look
in the rays of light that tear
the trellises, the silk and the
usefulness

metaphysical revolt
that is born painful
and violent
an awareness
of man's limitation
due to the presence
of death

conscience that makes
to experiment
impotence and frustration
and leads to the limits
of atheism

essential tragedy
that puts the absolute
in discussion
and brings the revolt
against the wicked gods
acceptance of precariousness
of the inevitable
of the irresolvable...


PAR

My guilt laughs at me haughtily.
A hubristic lecture by my inner child is building a void of my space.
I'm shaping my own dark matter from the leftovers of my remains, smudging them into wisdom.
Prudent is the speculation that my stoicism is able to be valued.
Nostalgia of my higher reason combats the odds that object on my worth and on the limits of my human nature.
Entitled creation...some water and dirt mingled with dysfunctional, electromagnetic force that anticipates its evolution and mastery of its true power..

Angelic thorns that pierce my veins infusing love, slaying my pain.
A female mage, a planar traveler, a soul that's sold...
Some tears blind me, my cheeks annoied with their burning alchemy...
Praying on the dead grass of a heavenly made hell ! Digging furiously underneath the plateau of my radiance to retrieve the coffin of my peace that was buried by Lust and Fear.
An eclipse of my consciousness...

Bipolar reactions, crying and laughing at the same time, existing simultaneously in lower and higher dimensions that sliver me in half.
A virtual hunt shuffles my material arousing a physical orgy.
My endless cup of divine nectar is craved by my ancient powerlessness...
My metamorphosis has a slight sent of cinnamon and toxins.
Knowledge echoes in the room in low frequencies, those that the human ear can't perceive..
I hear a unison of screaming sounds....What are they saying to me!?
The time has come...but there is no time..

That blend of sentience we seek
Is that beheld upon the thresh
Of wide awake, and dreams that speak
Their chaos into neuronic mesh.
And there within that motive snare
We seize a newfound bolt of thought
As if condensed from dewy air
Which by some unseen muse was brought.
 
But of course the muse is that within
Each and every melee moment
Of cortex linch and cerebral pin
For that fleeting verse bestowment,
Which we may call a conscious act
From matter gray...to matter of fact.