The layers of conscience drift in time
Ordering themselves naturally
Beyond my grasp is the absolute Whole’s conscience
Like the finest sand there is
It slips between my fingers

I cannot have the chance to drink from it
If only to perceive
What my senses and my imagination
In their most keen moments
Have not the virtue of describing

One has to ride it backwards
Picking the clues that it leaves us
In the lesser levels
To finaly climb higher into ours
And attempt the childish comparison
Of considering the individual in a material scale
As the peak of the living conscience

A thought process that will nevertheless enable us
To understand that the awareness of our ignorance
Grows with the notions one acquires
And that the intellect blows in size
From one layer to another

I know that I am but a cell of an untouchable entity
And from my own layer of consciousness
I cannot feel the moods of the sum
Created by the wholeness of us all

So this whole, like me
Maybe complains about the fact
That he is but a fraction

I dream to glimpse one day this Whole absolute…

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