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.
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