Consciousness

I am weak. I am human. I bare the gift and the burden of consciousness… ...Of utility, logic, lucidity. I am someone just like you But you're nothing like anyone We’re all new. Every thing New. some of it is bitter, some succulent But it's all fresh, and ripe Some of it kills you, torments you Because you're human And you're weak. And it is what it is, and perhaps someday it will also be killed. Some of it makes you stronger, makes you happy As is the cycle of everything in existence But what makes you weak? It’s not death. Death is a door. It’s not pain. Most of those with pain fight it which gives them strength Pain has many translations Many forms and colors Without consciousness, would we still feel pain? Without coherence, can we still be troubled? I can say that if I were born away From anything humane these thoughts wouldn’t haunt me But I, we, fight it every day alienated despite being equivalent to a colony of ants Typical wounds growing in irregular people who are at war with their minds who want to find themselves and the world, and the divine Who want to find the beauty in every horror, in every page of every sad story and make peace with the fact that they must endure whatever is to come between now and death which for all of us is impending and make the most of it, make it right make change to better the human race which you fear is a failure to life itself. to encounter and confront these conscious coherent bearings displays strength so what makes you weak would reside in this strength in the moments between where you fail to emit the divine energy born within everything; love. there is an off button, and it goes off sometimes and we remember the sufferings of the world and we forget that suffering is part of what brings strength the off button is our faith, our hope, our acceptance. the off button is what makes us weak. how can I be strong? How can i take away someone's suffering? how can I keep faith and hope, how can I find acceptance to get through? we all have to find a way through between the boundaries of the ugly and the beautiful old and new acceptance is a place of belonging, of embrace of remark and disregard to disassociate, to oppose and accept. It’s beyond religion. It’s beyond worldly fixings. But once I get through, I find that place, I can be true. I'll be strong. So can you.