The Consciousness

With every tick of the clock And the door's suspense Sometimes a great knock and the consciousness grows Like a red rose Slowly, Softly, Silently Timidly, Taciturnly, Terrified Hesitantly, Slyly, Wisely In eta into an enormous not extinguishable hearth Called the soul That burns unexhausted------- Absorbs, Acclimatises, Accentuated And adheres to it for a short long time Till the appointed moment To escape into another life Of stringent struggle and strife Yet with another tick It becomes saturated sick Still assumes another form Totally different, fully divergent No past recollections, repentance of sentiments Gathers, Collects, Shares Enjoys, Repines, Bears Stays, Dissolves, Sublimes Growth, decadence, degradation with the time. The Consciousness WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL POETRYSOUP CONTEST