Consciousness

I move between light and shadow—not dreams,

But some awareness stirs within my mind;

Not dreams—not peace—not love,

A consciousness is born in the heart.

I cannot evade it,

It holds my hand in its own,

All tasks seem trivial—all efforts futile,

Every thought—every prayer feels empty,

Empty they feel, empty they remain.

Who can walk like ordinary people?

Who can stop like them in this interplay of light and dark?

Who can speak their language or utter words like them?

Who can know certainty anymore?

Who seeks to understand the taste of the body?

Who yearns for the joy of life as others do?

Like everyone else, who can sow seeds again,

Living with the scent of earth on their skin,

With the smell of water clinging to their flesh,

Looking toward the light with enthusiasm,

Can anyone live awake like a farmer on this earth?

Not dreams—not peace—but some awareness works

Within my mind.

On the path, I try to cross over—I wish to ignore it;

I want to smash it like a skull,

Yet it clings around my head,

Around my eyes, around my chest.

When I walk, it follows me; when I stop, it halts too.

Amidst all people, sitting alone,

Is it my fault that I grow separate?

Are these puzzles only in my eyes?

Are these obstacles only on my path?

Those born into this world like children,

Who have spent years birthing children,

Or those who must give birth today,

Or those coming to sow seeds in the fields of the earth—

Do their hearts not resemble mine? Is their mind not like mine?

Then why am I so alone?

Why do I feel such solitude?

Haven’t I lifted the plow of a farmer?

Haven’t I drawn water from wells?

Haven’t I walked to the fields countless times with a sickle in hand?

Haven’t I wandered by rivers and ponds like fishermen?

The scent of algae has clung to my body;

These are the tastes I’ve known.

Life flowed freely like the wind,

Underneath stars, my mind once slept peacefully.

One day, I understood all this longing—boundless, profound.

Yet I left them behind.

I loved women,

Ignored them,

Despised them.

They loved me back, came close,

Rejected me, scorned me, and walked away—

Even as I called out repeatedly, loving them still.

Still, there was devotion—one day, this love existed.

Their rejection, their hatred, their disdain—I ignored them.

The faults of the stars that blocked my path of love,

I forgot them.

Yet this love remains—dust and mud.

In my mind,

Not dreams—not love—but some awareness operates.

Leaving all gods behind,

I return to my soul,

And ask this heart:

Why does it speak alone, circling endlessly like water?

Has it no fatigue? No moment of peace?

Will it never sleep? Will it never find rest lying quietly?

Will it never taste the joy of seeing human faces?

Never see the face of a woman?

Never gaze upon the face of a child?

Does it seek only this awareness—this endless depth?

Rejecting earthly paths, does it not desire the starry skies?

Has it sworn an oath

To see the face of humanity?

To see the face of womanhood?

To see the face of childhood?

Eyes plagued by black veins,

Ears burdened by deafness,

Bent backs, swollen glands—rotten gourds molded in decay,

Hearts where such things have grown—

All these afflictions.

O restless consciousness, adrift between worlds,

What do you seek in the depths of silence?

Is it truth beyond comprehension,

Or solace for wounds too deep to heal?

You wander through realms unseen,

Unfolding mysteries hidden in plain sight.

Tell me, what lies beneath the veil of thought?

Is it liberation, or another form of bondage?

For every answer births new questions,

Each revelation conceals shadows darker still.

Perhaps the journey itself is the destination,

And seeking is the essence of being.

Look now at the horizon, where sky meets earth—

A thin line separating existence from eternity.

Here, in this liminal space, miracles unfold:

Sunrise paints the world anew,

Sunset bids farewell with golden tears.

Each moment births infinity, each breath holds eternity.

Do you recall the scent of freshly cut grass,

The laughter of children echoing through village lanes?

These fragments of beauty are threads woven into the tapestry of being.

They remind us that life is both fragile and resilient,

A dance of light and shadow, joy and sorrow.

And yet, amidst the ephemeral, there is permanence—

Not in objects, but in essence.

The song of the cuckoo lingers in spring air,

The taste of rain remains on parched lips,

The warmth of a mother’s embrace lives forever in the heart.

Such moments transcend time, becoming eternal.

But tell me, traveler, what will you carry with you

When the final curtain falls?

Will it be regret for roads untaken,

Or gratitude for journeys completed?

Will you mourn the loss of youth,

Or celebrate the wisdom gained with age?

Death is not an end, but a threshold—

A doorway leading to realms unknown.

Just as rivers merge with oceans,

So too does the soul dissolve into infinity.

What fears can bind us when we realize

That we are already part of something greater than ourselves?

Imagine, then, crossing that threshold—

Leaving behind the familiar, stepping into mystery.

Will you meet ancestors waiting to guide you,

Or find yourself alone in boundless light?

Perhaps neither, perhaps both;

The truth eludes definition, defies comprehension.

Yet one thing is certain: love endures.

It flows through veins unseen, binds hearts unbroken.

Even in death, it remains—a beacon guiding us home.

For love is not confined to flesh and bone;

It transcends form, existing beyond the limits of mortality.

So let us live fully, love deeply, dream boldly,

Until the final hour arrives.

Let us cherish the ordinary, for it holds extraordinary grace.

Let us honor the earth, which sustains us,

And the sky, which inspires us.

Let us walk gently upon this sacred ground,

Leaving behind footprints of kindness, not destruction.

When the sun sets for the last time,

May we close our eyes with peace in our hearts.

May we leave behind a legacy of light,

So that others may follow in our footsteps,

Guided by the same eternal spark.

Thus, O wanderer, fear not the end—

For endings are merely beginnings in disguise.

Embrace the journey, savor the moments,

And trust that beyond the horizon,

A new dawn awaits, radiant and infinite.