Consciousness Poem by Tom Billsborough

Left right, left right, left right,
Do I keep pace with my existential self?
I think I see me as I am,
But in reverse, of course, a micro
Second late. And my nostalgic
Self continuously flows
Back into an ever changing
Past where, modified by experience,
Memories bloom as nebulae
In the vast regions of space
Littered with the frail debris
Of my acts. And what of this,
The present impasse where consciousness,
Apparent choice prevail?
Is it real? Or just some sleep-walk
In a self deluded trance?
Come out! Come out! My so-called soul,
Wherever you are, if you exist
At all, unconscious trigger
Unseen puppeteer, for whom
My conscious self may act
As mouthpiece and a dummy exhibiting
Convincing signs of life.