Questions of Purpose

Alas poor consciousness, I knew thee well. You of a wonderful nature- Of passion and fury, You of desperate desires- Of anguish and ecstasy. What has become of you? Have you lost your fire- That incarnadine glow from within? Though it was certain to falter It did produce a lovely light. Alas poor consciousness, I knew thee well. It pains me to see you now, Cold and callous. A chambered nautilus that has long since been abandoned. I held such fond memories of our time together, Yet, as you are, withered and dying I fear the curtain has been drawn On our period of deliberate living. Alas poor consciousness, I knew thee well. Few novelties can be afforded, With one as literal as you have become, So I shall expend no more energy than is necessary. No longer are you the image of a Man who farms, But that of a lifeless farmer. Grant yourself the luxury of kneeling Next to the stream we did so cherish And gaze at what you have become.